


What's Kardasi for "High Class"?

by orchidlocked



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, But In A Real Tender Way, Can't Trust Them As Far As You Can Throw Them, Cardassian Culture, Cardassian flirting, Clothing, Established Relationship, First Time Topping, Genetic Enhancements, He's A Bastard But He's My Bastard, He's An Idiot But He's My Idiot, Inexperienced Tops Working Hard For The Money, M/M, Marathon Sex, Mild Clothing Kink, Mild Spy Kink, Self Lubricating Cardassians, Sneaky Bastards, Started Out Smutty And Now We Here, Surprise Everyone's A Switch, Wet & Messy, deception as seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2020-11-26 16:40:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20933396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchidlocked/pseuds/orchidlocked
Summary: Julian discovers some of the garments Garak has been making for him have a bit of a different cultural context from a Cardassian perspective; arguments are had, an understanding is eventually reached. This was intended to be a real smutty one-shot and turned into several chapters of sappiness which, is on brand for me.





	1. In And Out of Context

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this inspired by a conversation on tumblr and twitter about Julian's asymmetrical necklines and the headcanon that Garak is tricking him out like a 'high class Cardassian rentboy' (I will post the link once I can find it again) and for @IamJohnLocked4life who talked with me about this for literal hours on end. also for my pal G who is a real one when it comes to Trek, and also after reading @thehoyden's “Letters From The Northern Continent,” going with the headcanon that exposing a collarbone is the equivalent of a 'plunging neckline on a woman.' Ha ha ha. Enjoy the first chapter of my first fic ever for this fandom. I don't want to tag anyone because this might be trash but if you want to be tagged just let me know.

Julian woke up on top of the comforter and reached his arm over to feel... nothing. No familiar lump sleeping next to him wrapped up in a giant pile of blankets. He sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“Good morning, dear Doctor. Did you sleep well?” Julian followed the sound of Garak's rich voice to find him fully dressed and seated at the table with a steaming cup of what smelled like red leaf tea.

“Mmm, yeah, actually.” Julian scooted out of bed and walked over to the kitchenette. He placed a hand on Garak’s shoulder and gave his shoulder ridge an affectionate squeeze. He stood behind Garak and looked at the hologram projecting on the table in front of him.

“How did you manage to get a news holo-broadcast from Cardassia?” Julian asked.

Garak raised an eyebrow ridge and sipped his tea. “Simple, really. Alter enough formal wear and someone will owe you a favor or two eventually.”

“Hmm. It’s only 0700. Why are you up so early?”

“If you’ll recall, a few high-ranking Cardassian military officials - I mean, diplomats - will be joining us on the station for the next few days as part of those ill-fated peace talks,” Garak said.

“Anyone you know?”

Garak heaved a dramatic sigh. “Oh, I’m but a simple tailor. I doubt any of my former customers would remember the humble man who shortened their sleeves.”

Julian shot Garak a look over the table. “I’m going to take that to mean you know a few of these visiting Cardassians.”

Garak shrugged. “That remains to be seen. However, I’d hate for anyone from Cardassia Prime to think I’m falling behind on fashion trends. Would be nice if I could showcase some of my finest work,” he said, reaching out and tracing a finger over the back of Julian’s hand.

“So you’re saying... I should dress up?”

“It would be preferable, yes.”

“And you want me to showcase some of your work?” Garak nodded.  
  
“Well.” Julian got up from the table and placed a kiss on the raised ridge at the base of Garak’s jaw. “It’s a good thing I’m fucking the station’s only tailor then, isn’t it?” Garak rolled his eyes with the patience of a long-suffering spouse and returned his attention to the news stream he’d managed to obtain through morally questionable means.

“What about this?” Julian asked, holding up a top Garak had made him a few months after they met; a maroon short sleeved shirt made of a medium-weight hibinoay, a fabric spun from the fibrous stems of a plant native to Bajor. It had the structure of felt but the softness of a spun cotton. The rich color flattered Julian’s skin tone, and it had quickly become one of his favorite pieces of clothing.

“Oh, no. You can’t wear that one,” Garak said dismissively.

Julian narrowed his eyes. “You made this for me.”

Garak nodded. “Yes, Doctor, I make most of your clothing that’s not Starfleet standard issue. Just one of the many benefits of indulging in the pleasures of the flesh with me.”

Julian laughed. “So why don’t you want me to wear it, then? I’ve always liked this one,” he said, running his fingers over the asymmetrical neckline that started high on the left side and angled down to the right.

“I think this calls for something a bit more… formal,” Garak said, turning to the closet and pulling out a heavy, ornate, long-sleeved garment in a gorgeous iridescent peacock blue. “What about this?” he asked. Garak was quite proud of the intricate beadwork on the sleeves and collar.

Julian ran his fingers over the fabric; it wasn’t lost on him that the garment had a much higher neckline than the others. “It’s lovely indeed, Garak, but…”

“But?”

“The last formal celebration on the station was just two weeks ago, and you insisted I wear the newest garment you made for me. The one of Tholian silk, in the chartreuse…?”

Garak blinked. “Yes, dear, of course, but…”

“But what? That one has a similar neckline.” Julian rummaged through the closet until he found another one of his favorite tops, a deep forest green velvet top with a scoop neckline and structural sleeves that resembled leaves cascading down to his elbows. It was part of an ensemble worn with high waisted pants that came up to the start of Julian’s ribcage; the top was cropped and exposed just a few inches of the skin on Julian’s torso. “This one is my favorite, actually. Makes me feel like some sort of… royal consort.” He chuckled as he remembered what had transpired in Garak’s shop the evening he’d presented Julian with the gorgeous ensemble for their first anniversary.

Julian looked at Garak to see that his neck and facial ridges were a bit darker than normal, the Cardassian equivalent of blushing. He was still holding out the ornate beaded garment. “I really think something like this would be more appropriate for the occasion, although I am quite flattered that you enjoyed your gift so much.” Perhaps Garak was also remembering how he’d slung Julian over his shoulder and tossed him down on the fitting room couch mere moments after Julian had tried on the ensemble for the first time.

“I’ll find something to wear. What time do you want me in the shop?”

“The delegation is arriving at 1500. I imagine they’ll stop by on their way to dinner.”

“Perfect, I’m off work at 1400. Plenty of time to shower and change.” Julian reached out and grabbed Garak’s hand, pulling him backward as he reached around and placed his other hand over the Cardassian’s chest. “But I don’t have to be at the infirmary for another hour and a half...”

Garak quickly flipped Julian around by the wrist and pinned him against the wall without dropping the peacock colored shirt in his hand. He bit down on the top of Julian’s trapezius and the doctor yelped. “My dear, dear Doctor, trust me when I say you_ really_ don’t want me to drop this elaborate and rather heavy garment. The beads alone took an entire week. I’d be so very _upset_ if all my hard work were to be undone in a moment’s carelessness.” Garak hissed softly into Julian’s ear and felt the doctor shiver against him.

“Then hang it up and take me-”

He wasn’t able to finish the sentence before Garak tossed the garment over a chair and set to properly ravishing his doctor.

* * *

Julian arrived home from a very, very long day at work covered in an unusually large amount of miscellaneous debris. He showered quickly, slung a towel around his waist, then set to selecting the perfect outfit to wear to Garak’s shop. He noticed Garak had hung up the heavy peacock shirt and a set of royal blue trousers with matching beadwork on a hook just to the left of the closet. Just where he would see it, Julian noted.

However, Julian didn’t understand Garak’s insistence on putting down his other work, especially the forest green velvet ensemble. Perhaps the tailor was being too modest about his work; maybe he didn’t want to show off any of these other pieces because they weren’t “utilitarian” enough for Cardassian sensibilities. Maybe they would be viewed as frivolous. Who knew. Julian was doing his best to learn about the minutiae of Cardassian culture, but it was always a maze and he could never quite tell what was the truth, and what was a lie.

And with that, Julian reached into the closet to find his anniversary gift. He held it up in front of him and looked in the mirror. This was the outfit he would wear today; it was the most incredible piece of clothing he’d ever seen, and he still couldn’t believe Garak had made it for him. Julian stepped into the velvet pants and fastened up the side clasps, then delicately slipped the top over his head and pulled the structural leaf sleeves into position.

He walked towards the lift to the promenade and carefully scooted in without crunching the sleeves up against the doors or any of the other passengers. Julian didn’t know much about how same sex relationships were viewed on Cardassia Prime; it didn’t matter much to him at the moment considering Garak was in exile and likely to remain that way for quite some time, if not indefinitely. However, it probably mattered to Garak, strict as Cardassian society was, so Julian decided it would be wise to model the outfit and promote Garak’s Clothiers for today’s visiting Cardassian ‘dignitaries’ as... a friend. It wasn’t too far from the truth. And no one loved a good lie more than Cardassians, Julian thought to himself with a smile as he strode down the promenade.

By the time he arrived to Garak’s shop, there were three Cardassians in full military regalia roaming around the shop, running calloused fingers over delicate silks from four planets, chiffons, synthetic nylons and other fabrics Julian couldn’t identify. He cringed thinking about the snags that would surely be left behind after they stopped touching everything. The shortest of the three diplomats ran into a mannequin and knocked it over; in his haste to right it, he turned around and locked eyes with Julian. The Cardassian let out a deep, loud laugh.

“Who are you and _what_ are you-”

“My dear Doctor!” Garak exclaimed, materializing from out of thin air with a large brocade shawl, which he quickly tossed over Julian’s shoulders. “You’ll have to excuse me, I’ve spoiled him rotten,” Garak said, addressing the three Cardassian diplomats with his trademark acerbic wit. He fastened the shawl closed with a bejeweled brooch and patted Julian on the arm. Julian squinted at Garak; the gesture was far more intimate than he expected from the tailor, especially in front of other Cardassians, but when it came to Garak, the trick was to be prepared for anything.

The lead Cardassian envoy smiled at Julian with teeth bared, an unsettling sort of smile the doctor had learned to identify as a threat. “Is this your little [hu’verxt], Garak?” Occasionally the universal translator didn’t pick up on a word, usually slang, but it was a rare occasion for the translator to miss Kardasi, especially here. They were, after all, on a Cardassian-built station.

“Ahh, yes, the Doctor here is my _partner_,” Garak said, in a tone that indicated he was issuing a correction. Julian glared at Garak, fixated on the word the universal translator didn’t catch. He knew he couldn’t ask for an explanation now. Garak took Julian’s hand and placed it in the crook of his arm. Julian’s eyes went wide; he also wasn’t expecting Garak to be so openly affectionate in front of a trio of high-ranking Cardassian officials.

“Dressed like that?” the tallest envoy asked. “You certainly are enjoying exile more than most,” he said with a sneer.

“At least you’re able to keep a [hu’verxt] at your age and in your... condition.” All three Cardassian 'diplomats' burst into laughter. “We’ll be seeing you again before we leave Terok Nor.” They sauntered out the door and the familiar intimidating sounds of Cardassian military uniform components moving against each other faded into the general noises of the station's promenade.

Julian turned to Garak, who was blinking rapidly; his ridges were flushed a much darker shade of greyish blue than Julian had seen.

“Garak, what does [hu’verxt] mean?” Julian asked cautiously.

Garak stared at Julian blankly. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“The translator. It’s not picking that word up.” Julian repeated himself. “All I hear is the Kardasi, not the Federation Standard. So I'm asking you to tell me what it means.”

“What what means?”

“What does [hu’verxt] mean?”

“While I'm overjoyed to learn of your sudden curiosity about the finer points of the Kardasi language, it's an interesting time to ask for a vocabulary lesson, isn't it?” Garak said as he closed and locked the doors to the shop. He turned around to see his young Terran doctor with his arms crossed. Oh. Julian had learned quite a bit over the past year, hadn't he? “Perhaps we can continue this conversation at home. I'm exhausted just thinking about it. Or shall we head to Quark's?”

Julian walked over to Garak and fixed his eyes on the Cardassian's. “Garak.”

It was clear Julian was not going to let it go; Garak knew he would have to tell Julian _something_. And as he was thinking about opening up a more serious conversation with Julian in the coming weeks, he might as well start with the truth. Garak's eyes widened at the thought. He looked up; the charming doctor – _his_ doctor – was still standing with his arms crossed and a sour look on his face.

“All right. I guess I'm going to have to tell you.” Garak put his hands behind his back and looked at the floor.

“Is it that serious?”

“No, no-” Garak said hurriedly, “-it's hardly serious. I must admit. You are a fiercely attractive specimen, Doctor Bashir. By Cardassian standards, you have the ideal body type; tall, willowy, long limbed, and most importantly, your beautiful neck and collarbones. Sure you know after a year of being with me _intimately_ that this area is quite the erogenous zone for a Cardassian.”

“Yes,” Julian said, uncrossing his arms.

“And we all know that various cultures and species have different feelings about erogenous zones; in some cultures, the custom is to highlight them.” Garak used a light and measured tone as he attempted to soothe the situation before the truth would come out and inflame it further.

“In some cultures, perhaps more modest cultures, the erogenous zones would be covered up. Especially perhaps, oh, I don't know, in a culture where no one trusts anyone and everyone lies all the time.” Julian's tone was cautious, but he reached out and ran two fingers over Garak's right shoulder ridge and up to just behind his ear.

Garak closed his eyes and sighed. “Precisely. And you – of course – know which category Cardassian culture falls into. Fair enough.”

“Right. But what does [hu’verxt] mean?”

“I am trying to provide you the necessary context,” Garak said as he turned around and grabbed a mock up pattern from a pile on his alterations table. “This is the pattern I used to make the top you're now wearing. You'll note the deep scoop of the neckline.”

“Yes, it's my favorite part,” Julian said. Garak noted how the doctor's eyes flashed with delight. He hoped he hadn't given too much away already, but that would have to be a conversation for another day.

“Outfits featuring these types of necklines are considered a bit too... daring for wear outside the home. They're typically reserved for occasions of a more intimate nature.” Garak cleared his throat and continued. “When I had my shop on Cardassia Prime, I was renowned for my ability to create these types of garments for Cardassians, typically young males who provided,” he might as well get it over with, “services of a... sexual nature to important figures in Cardassian civil and military society. In exchange for a fee of sorts.”

Julian was glaring at Garak. “Always something new with you, isn't it?”

“There's your context. [hu’verxt] has a few different usages, but it is a word often used to refer to such men, who wear these sorts of garments while working in a home or in another private location. I could try to translate it further but-”

“So... [hu’verxt]. Essentially it means... a rentboy?” Julian scoffed in disbelief.

“Explain this Terran word to me.”

Julian crossed his arms again. “It's what we Terrans call a man who exchanges sex for favors or currency, when it existed.”

Garak tilted his head. “Yes, I believe that’s one way to translate it,” Garak said. “Although you must understand that it's not taboo in Cardassian culture to engage in casual or even secret sexual relations, provided they fall within a specific societally acceptable context.”

“Which is?”

“That such behavior occurs only behind closed doors.”

“Ahh. I see. I'm also apparently your illicit lover who's only acceptable as long as I'm kept behind closed doors, at least to all your fellow _Cardassians_. How lovely. How touching, Garak.” Julian's face was flushed, and he felt his heart rate rising.  
  
"These are not cheap garments! They're quite high class! Only the most elegant of [hu’verxt] would be seen wearing such finery, trust me."  
  
"Not helping, Garak!"

“I did try encouraging you to wear something different today,” Garak said. Oh, that was a mistake. Julian's warm brown eyes were blazing with anger. He moved closer to Julian and tried running a hand down the middle of his back to calm him. “It's slang. And as we know, the Universal Translator is not without fault. Not to mention the em, the finer points of Cardassian society, which is so very different from your home planet. The word can also refer to a... partner or a,” Garak took a breath and found the courage to speak the word aloud, “_spouse_ who does not have to work because of the financial situation of the – what's the word I'm looking for – this won't translate directly, but I'll just say 'head of household.'”

“Then the word actually means some combination of a rentboy and a... a kept man?”

“What is this? A man who is 'kept'?” Garak asked.

Julian sighed. “It's another Terran idiom. Typically it's a 'kept woman' but it means a person whose partner pays for them to be 'kept,' as in, they don't have to work. It tends to be used to mean someone who is 'kept' in a lavish lifestyle so they are available to attend to their keeper's... needs.”

“Are these needs of a sexual nature, Doctor?”

“Stop calling me Doctor. What do you think, Elim?”

“Judging from the look on your face, I'd assume the answer is yes.” Garak tilted his head downwards; a small but significant gesture in Kardasi body language that Julian understood as an invitation.

The doctor began clapping slowly. “Excellent deduction. Well, thank you for humiliating me for the past year; it's been utterly delightful.”

“Humiliating you?” Garak laughed, a chuckle from deep in his throat. “Hardly, my dear. By your Terran standards, I've been clothing you like royalty. And I just told you Cardassians don't consider this type of relationship to be societally unacceptable or unsavory in any way. You should not be so embarrassed by a simple cultural difference.”

“Not be embarassed!? I've been walking around like this, for over a year, I might add, wearing what is basically the Cardassian version of a... a... skimpy bikini and you want _me_ to _not_ be embarrassed? You should have told me, Elim. But as usual, I'm not surprised.” Julian walked towards the door and Garak quickly stepped in front of him.

“Oh, do you tire of this old, washed out exile already? Am I boring you?”

“Sometimes I tire of all the deception,” Julian said.

“The young doctor I live with loves nothing more than a mystery. Isn't deception quite a large component of a good mystery?”

“You could have told me.”

Garak shrugged and held his hands out. “And_ you_ could have easily obtained this information months ago if you'd really tried.” Julian stepped forward into Garak's space until their faces were only a few inches apart. He tried to come up with a witty retort, but he was far too angry. “But? You didn't. And that's because you'd rather stand here and fight with me about it.”

Ah, and there it was – the catch. Julian had always been a touch hot-tempered; he remembered the day he learned that verbal sparring of the sort he and Garak had long done over their weekly lunches was considered flirting. However, he always forgot the role of fighting in Cardassian coupling until he was in the midst of an argument with Garak. Part of his primitive Terran brain wanted to grab Garak by the shoulders, shake him, and tell him to knock it off. The logical part of him that held his medical and Starfleet training wanted to sit him down and calmly explain how communication between intimate partners was so important for humans from Earth.

But the part of him that had been getting fucked six ways from Sunday by a terrifyingly strong ex-Obsidian Order assassin for the past year and a half... well. His body betrayed him; Julian felt himself stiffening against his custom velvet trousers from just the start of an argument with Garak. And of course, the former spy noticed; he noticed everything. Garak's gaze wandered slowly back up from where he'd been staring.

“Ah, have you finally come around to seeing a Cardassian argument for what it is, young Terran?” he asked smugly.

Julian closed his eyes and let out a long breath. Time to think about medical reports, think about test results, racquetball, painfully opaque and repetitive Cardassian novels, something, anything that would calm the fire coiling up inside him right now.

“My dear Julian, I believe I asked you a question,” Garak said in the low voice he used only when they were alone, when they were intimate. He stepped closer to Julian and ran a single fingertip up his arm, then over the thin strip of exposed skin between his velvet trousers and the bottom of his top. Julian shivered under Garak’s touch, and he knew he’d lost this round.

He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. “Dammit, Garak. You’re such an utter bastard.”

“Only sometimes. Turn your translator off. It's been causing trouble today,” Garak growled, setting all the hairs on Julian's neck on end.

“_You_ turn it off,” Julian snapped. He had barely finished the sentence when he felt Garak tap his temple three times. The clicking and distinctive cadence of Kardasi filled his ears. He had no idea what Garak was saying as he pushed him up against the nearest wall and began biting at his collarbone, but he got the general idea.

Julian couldn’t really complain per se; things had been busy as of late, and since they'd moved in together, some of the raw passion of their first few encounters had faded a bit. He tried to remember the last time they'd gone twice in a single day, but the feel of Garak's deft fingers working his pants off his body distracted him. Julian moaned and allowed himself to enjoy Garak's hand stroking him to full hardness. The embarrassment was a small price to pay for all of this, really.

Now he just needed to plan his revenge.


	2. A Harmless Prank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> finally earning that explicit rating, lots of words in here come from @tinsnip's Kardasi dictionary! look it up!

A few months after the incident with the Cardassian ranking officials, Julian had forgotten not only why he’d been so riled up about it, but what sort of revenge he should pursue. Garak had been laying it on thick; he’d made Julian two new shirts, three pairs of trousers, and another ensemble patterned after the one he’d worn that day. This one was made in a maroon velvet with Tholian silk binding, and Garak made certain to point out the height of the neckline would be suitable for attending public events on Cardassia Prime.

It had been a busy period for Julian; a Dominion attack on a transport vessel had led to weeks of surgeries and intensive physical therapy for the two dozen people aboard. He’d been so involved in work that he hadn’t even noticed Garak had also reupholstered all the furniture in their quarters with something he called [prisosa gumas] or “eyelash weave.” The sofa and chairs that had formerly been covered with a tired, scratchy dark grey tweed were now redone in shades of deep purple, midnight blue, and emerald green. [Prisosa gumas] was thick and reflected the light. True to the name, there were small strings that hung off in eyelash shaped patterns all over the fabric, creating a dramatic three-dimensional effect.

“It's a very expensive fabric, Doctor.” Garak had taken great joy in explaining the cultural significance of said expensive fabric, which had been smuggled onto Deep Space Nine with the help of Quark and Morn. “The same weave is only found in upper class Cardassian homes, government buildings, those sort of locations.” Garak showed Julian how to brush the “lashes” back into place after sitting or lying down on the furniture. At first, Julian hadn't thought much of the upholstering job other than to tell Garak that the fabric was much more comfortable than the Terok Nor standard issue tweed; after a month of having the eyelash weave he felt differently. It became a ritual for Julian to come home from work and run his fingers through the [prisosa] as he wound down from a long day. And that wasn't all: Garak mended all of Julian's uniforms and dress trousers; so well that Julian didn't even notice until he'd torn his blazer in the same spot twice. Overall, things were going smoothly between them. At least from Julian's perspective.

Over the past few weeks, Garak had been working late hours, very late hours, at the shop, to the point where Julian was starting to worry. He'd woken up in the middle of the night a few times with no Cardassian pressed up against his bare skin for warmth, and he thought Garak seemed more tired than normal. So, Julian decided to stop by with a raktajino one night and get a better idea of what was happening. Using the pass Garak had given him, Julian walked into the shop and was greeted by a grumpy-faced Cardassian who appeared to be elbows deep in a complicated project; something ornate, brocade, and beaded.

“Doctor! What are you doing here?” If Julian didn't know better, he'd think the sharp edge in Garak's voice was a slight panic, but... no. It was late, the project looked intense; the tailor was probably just annoyed.

“I was trying to surprise you, Garak,” Julian said.

“Well, surprise me you did. I’d appreciate some advance notice next time,” Garak said, a bit more snappily than he’d intended. He ran his fingers along his hairline and let out a sigh.

“Elim,” Julian said, moving closer to him, “whatever project you’re working on, it’s not worth getting this worked up about.” Julian ran his hand down Garak’s back. Even through the heavyweight garments Garak wore to ward off the chill of the station, Julian could feel the tension in his shoulders.

“I’m afraid it is, Doctor. It’s got to be finished by the end of next week so it can arrive on Cardassia Prime in time for an event.”

Julian cocked his head to the side. “Unusual for you to be shipping garments back to Cardassia. When’s the last time you had an order from the home planet?”

“Oh, it’s been well over two years, I believe,” Garak said after a long pause.

“Then this must be for a very special occasion.”

Garak singed a loose thread off the sleeve of the garment. “Indeed, it is.” The garment was an ombre of orange, yellow, pink, and purple; it resembled a sunset. Julian had never seen Garak working within this color palette before. He was at least able to recognize the trademark Cardassian binding on the neckline of the top; the height and structure of the neckline looked more on the traditional side. Garak usually went a bit more modern in his own designs, so Julian assumed he was working off a pattern. The doctor watched as Garak opened a large case filled with beads and threaded several onto a string, knotted it at the bottom, then worked back up and finally attached it to the garment.

“Is it for a, a what’s it called, a [hu’verxt] fancying themselves up?” Julian asked with a smirk on his face.

Garak shot Julian a look he didn’t recognize, a facial expression that appeared a bit forlorn for a moment before it vanished from the Cardassian’s face. “No,” Garak said, exhaling through his nose, returning his attention to the beadwork. “It is not a garment of that nature.”

Julian raised his eyebrows. “Ahh, so you’re making Cardassian couture again?” He walked over and attempted to touch the fabric, only to be gently, but firmly, swatted away by the tailor’s deft hand.

“Please, my dear. This is a very important project.” It was unlike Garak to be so secretive about the only forward facing part of his life, but it seemed important to him, so Julian backed away from the sewing table and held his hands in the air.

“All right. Well, it’s an absolutely lovely piece. When shall I expect you home?”

“A few more hours and I should be done with the front.” Garak picked up the garment and began lining up a seam.

“If you’re not home by 0200 hours, I_ will_ come back and drag you out of here.” Julian pressed a kiss to Garak’s temple.

“And I would love to see you try,” Garak responded. His blue eyes flashed and he shot Julian a familiar sly smile. Julian chuckled as he turned and walked out the door. If Garak was still maintaining his usual sharp sense of humor, that meant he wasn’t under too much stress. Julian went home and was out like a light within the hour. He slept so soundly, he didn’t even notice Garak sneaking into bed around 0430.

* * *

Another few days went by and Garak’s tension levels only seemed to be increasing. One morning, when he was getting ready to go into the shop, Garak put on one of his favorite pairs of trousers; Julian's eyes went wide as he saw the slacks fall right onto the floor. Cardassian clothing didn't fit like that, especially not Garak's. The next day, he secretly used a tricorder on Garak as he kipped on the sofa. The doctor was shocked to discover his partner had lost 8% of his body weight. Garak was clearly under a lot of stress, but Julian knew his usual displays of Terran-style concern would not be received well.

He wracked his brain for an idea to take Garak’s mind off the complicated garment he’d been working on for weeks. Oh! Perhaps his Cardassian needed a good prank. No - not just a prank. High class witty repartee, of a quality appropriate for a former Obsidian Order operative. Julian laughed to himself as he walked over to the replicator and began scanning pattern catalogs.

Two days later, Julian had everything in place. He called the shop to make sure Garak would be home at around his usual time.

“You’ve reached Garak’s Clothiers.”

“Hi...” Julian drawled.

“Hello, dear Doctor, to what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”

“Just making sure you’re planning on coming home tonight in time for dinner.”

“Yes, that I will. You can expect me at the usual time.” Garak hung up without any further discussion, and Julian let out a small huff before clicking off the communicator. It was just as well, he thought; there was plenty of work to be done before Garak arrived back to their quarters.

* * *

Three hours later, Garak made his way back to the habitat ring and into their quarters, which felt unusually warm. It was also unusual for the lights to be off, especially since Julian had made such a fuss about having him home in time for dinner.

“Computer, bring up lights.” Garak gasped as the lights came up and he laid eyes on Julian. The doctor was wearing a pair of black patent leather heels, skin tight red pants, and nothing else. His skin appeared to be oiled up, and the quarters were at a comfortable Cardassian temperature (for once). Every inch of his lanky body was on display as he strutted over to greet Garak.

“Hello, sir,” Julian said, demurely tilting his head downwards as he took the bags in Garak’s arms and set them on the table. “I’ve poured your kanar for you already.”

Garak stood still in the entryway, blinking rapidly and staring at Julian with an expression he couldn’t quite place.

“Doctor, you appear to be missing some of your clothes,” Garak said dryly.

“I assure you, I’m not. This is how a Terran rentboy would dress.” Julian placed his hands on Garak’s shoulders.

“Is that so?”

Julian grabbed a small package covered in Kardasi from the counter. “This came for you yesterday, sir,” he said, batting his eyelashes. “Priority rush parcel from Cardassia Prime, it's um – it looks like it was marked as a ‘gemstone/mineral’ through Federation customs.” Again, Garak froze and stared blankly at Julian for a few moments; not the reaction the doctor expected.

“Truly remarkable,” Garak said; he laughed bitterly.

Julian didn't pick up on the heavily disguised distress in Garak's voice, and he strolled over to the table to pick up a glass with a generous pour of kanar. He presented it to Garak, who was now sitting on the sofa, looking a bit peaked.

“Do you mean the outfit?” Julian asked. “I had to ask Dax to help me find the pattern for the heels.”He crawled across Garak’s lap and presented his oiled up backside for the Cardassian to touch; his red shiny pants gave way to a thong in the back and his pert little arse was on full display. He wiggled his entire body, expecting Garak to land a firm swat across his cheek, or maybe even to dip a finger underneath his thong. Nothing. No reaction from the Cardassian. Julian turned around and looked up at Garak; there was none of the usual playfulness on his face, or the trademark sparkle in his eyes during one of their quibbles. “Oh. I think - I’m getting the feeling I’m missing something here, Garak,” he said.

Garak let out a high pitched hum and rubbed his temples. “Mmm—yes, Doctor, yes, I believe I have missed something as well.” The Cardassian stood and crossed his arms.

“Garak, I’m sorry - I think – this isn't quite going the way I'd planned it. I didn’t-”

“No, Doctor Bashir, it certainly is not!” Garak's sudden change in tone shocked Julian, who was momentarily stunned into silence. “You lured me home with the promise of dinner and instead greet me with this, this,” he gestured to Julian's oiled up body with an expression of disdain, “whatever this is? This is the way you treat your partner who's been suffering over a very important order for weeks?” Hoo boy, he’d really miscalculated here. Garak was furious, and his coloring indicated it.

“Garak, I didn't realize-”

“No, you didn't, did you? You didn't realize how exhausted I'd be after such intense detail work, did you? You are never thinking about anyone but yourself, Doctor.” Julian opened his mouth, but no words came out. “Here you are, dressed up like a, whatever you called it, some sort of rentboy, basically a, a _tart_, and now you expect me to drop everything and attend to your _deviant_ sexual desires? After I've worked my fingers to the bone all day.”

Julian's face shifted as he finally understood that indeed, Garak was now playing along, trying to seduce him as he usually did: with a rollicking argument. He looked at the Cardassian's blue eyes; they were lively and shimmering like pools. “As a matter of fact, I do expect you to ‘attend’ to me,” Julian said haughtily, “as it’s my right. Are you going to tell me that a few ratty pieces of cloth stitched together are more important than this?” He stood and popped his hip out.

“Of course not,” Garak said dryly. “It’s just, well. I can't say I find it terribly exciting.”

“The only way you couldn't be excited by what I have to offer is if you’re getting too old for it,” Julian snapped. Before he could even put on the show of rolling his eyes, Garak had him by the neck and had shoved his chest against the wall. Oh, that was it; one of the long-standing triggers in their relationship. Every time Julian brought it up during foreplay, he ended up with delicious bruises and welts and the memories of how they got there. He laughed nervously.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be laughing if I were you, Doctor,” Garak said calmly. Too calmly. Julian moaned. Fuck, how had he gotten so lucky? He hadn’t expected Garak to take it to this level right away.

“I see no reason to stop laughing. If you were truly serious, you’d already be inside me by now.” Garak kicked Julian’s leg open, sending one of his high heels flying in the process. Julian yelped and threw his hands against the wall for balance. He heard the clinking of Garak’s belt and a rustle as his trousers fell to the floor. Yes, Julian thought.

“Perhaps this will quiet your insolent tongue,” Garak said, shoving three fingers into Julian’s mouth. He had everted; Julian could feel Garak’s length sliding slick against the back of his thigh.

“Oh,” Julian moaned, his tongue pressing against Garak’s fingers. Damn, he was going to get it good tonight.

“Give me your leg,” Garak said, running his fingers up the inside of Julian’s thigh. The doctor obeyed and lifted his leg; Garak slipped Julian’s other heel off his foot. Then the tailor moved even closer to Julian and held his leg up against the wall with his strong hand. His very strong hand, Julian noted; he could feel the pressure from each one of Garak’s fingertips against his thigh and he knew - well, at least, he hoped - he’d end up with a few bruises tomorrow.

“Hnng,” Julian cried out as he felt Garak running a finger down the cleft of his arse.

Garak hummed. “My, quite a reaction to the simplest of touches.” He took his fingers and dipped them into his ajan, coating them in warm slick, then began circling Julian’s rim.

“Garak, I-” Julian gasped and arched his back into the contact.

“Hmm?” Garak slipped a very warm, very slick finger inside Julian and wrapped his arm around Julian’s slippery torso. “Were you going to say something?”

“Just - it feels - oh-” Julian tilted his head down in invitation, and Garak bit down firmly on the back of his neck at the same time his finger brushed against Julian’s prostate. That was it for the doctor, who began writhing and crying out in rhythmic, very loud ‘ah! ah! ah’s as he came without Garak even so much as touching his cock. Julian’s ears started ringing before he’d finished riding it out, and he looked down to see he’d come a lot - a whole lot – on the wall. He gritted his teeth and shook his head. Garak was going to have a fun time with this.

“Oh, Chu'lian,” Garak clicked his name in Kardasi, “look at you. Spent hours putting whatever sort of oil is dripping off of your body, practicing in those heels, and when you finally lure me in, you explode all over the wall in a matter of minutes like you did the first time I laid hands on you.”

Julian turned around. He was blushing furiously, and still panting. “I suppose you’re right,” he said, chuckling. “I guess you’ll have to show me how it’s done, eh? Remind me the value of holding off, being patient, in the Cardassian way.”

“It is the way of my people,” Garak said, leaning in and laying a playful nibble on Julian’s trapezius. “Devotion, honor, and above all-“

“Duty-“ Julian said; he hadn’t anticipated the word exiting his mouth in such a desperate and needy way, but there it was.

“Duty? That’s quite rich coming from the Terran who’s left me in this state,” Garak said, taking himself in hand and rubbing himself against Julian’s thighs.

“Take me to bed, and I’d be overjoyed to remedy your current - oh!” Julian was interrupted by Garak lifting him up with a single arm and slinging him over his shoulder. Julian scrabbled to hang on to Garak and was prepared to be tossed on the bed; instead, Garak laid him down gently, then took his tunic off and gracefully climbed atop him. Julian felt the outlines of Garak's scales against his skin, then Garak's mouth licking and pressing kisses to his neck. “I'll do the laundry; I didn't think about how this oil would-”

“I'll attend to the laundry, however, at the moment, I believe you'll find I have more pressing concerns,” Garak slid his hips up and Julian felt him, everted, wet, and slick against his hipbone.

“Mmm. Please, Garak.”

“I'm sorry?”

“I said, please.”

“Please what?”

Julian wiggled his still-oiled body against Garak’s and spread his legs. “Are you going to make me continue to beg?”

“For what are you begging, Doctor?” Garak angled his hips so his erection could slide up against Julian, who was still soft. Although, the Cardassian noted with pleasure that Julian’s cock twitched underneath him as he did so.

“You, I’m begging for you,” Julian said, so earnestly Garak couldn’t deny him any longer. The tip of him slipped inside Julian easily, helped by his own lubrications. “Oh, god, Garak, yes,” Julian moaned, throwing his head back. Garak steadied his weight on his arms and pushed into Julian slowly - so slowly - that the doctor was sure he was going to go mad.

“Garak, oh, move, please, move,” Julian pleaded as Garak bottomed out, their bodies as closely connected as they could get.

“In time, young Terran, in time,” Garak slid out and back in excruciatingly slowly, “not all of us seek immediate gratification for our desires.” Julian felt his cock stiffening against Garak’s scaled torso. He only used this type of language when he was preparing to settle in and fuck Julian for a long, long time. _Wow_, Julian thought, _I’m going to have to try this trick more often._

It wasn’t long before Julian was completely hard and leaking all over himself; although with Garak’s natural fluids, it was hard to tell who was doing what. He had expected Garak to hold him down and fuck him hard and fast; instead, Garak thrust into him steadily, but gently, running his hands down Julian's sides, his arms, over his neck. Before becoming Garak's lover, Julian has never really seen the value in taking things slow. After the experiences the older man had guided him through, the doctor had learned much about patience, waiting, and Garak's favorite: delayed gratification. Julian shivered as Garak began gradually increasing his pace.

Then he opened his eyes to see Garak staring at him in an unfamiliar way. “Hmm?” he asked, giving the tailor a flirtatious look through his thick eyelashes.

“Tell me, Chu'lian, do I please you?” Garak asked quietly. Julian was confused; he focused on Garak’s face, his ridges and Chula flushed a deep navy, his piercing blue eyes searching Julian's face. He waited for Julian's answer without stilling the movements of his hips.

“Of course you do.” Julian couldn't help but respond with full sincerity. He was teetering on the edge of another orgasm in the skilled hands of his older lover, who had been making love to him for – it felt like hours, had it been hours? It (uncharacteristically) didn’t seem like a joke, but he waited nonetheless for a snappy reply which never came. Instead, Garak continued thrusting into Julian steadily, hitting the same spot over and over and over. “Elim, oh - that’s-“ Julian clutched at Garak’s back; Garak brought his hands up to stroke and caress Julian’s hair and face as he fucked into him, anchoring himself on his forearms. He used a circular breathing technique and some visualizations learned over many decades in the Obsidian Order to maintain his rhythm until he felt Julian coming, warmth spattering on his abdomen. He let his doctor ride it out, waiting until he felt Julian go completely slack before stilling his movements.

“Have you-?” Julian asked, carding his fingers through Garak’s hair.

Garak answered with a raised eyebrow and a slight roll of his hips; Julian could feel him inside, still hard, still ready. “Are you quite satisfied, Doctor?” He touched his forehead reverently to Julian’s.

“I - yes, I’m quite - Garak, you’ve - I am, yes,” Julian stammered. Garak didn’t move until Julian gripped his scaled hips firmly. “Come for me,” he said into Garak’s ear, the frequency of his voice resonating against the sensitive ridge at the base of Garak’s jaw. “I want to feel you.” Garak nodded and began moving again, spurred on by Julian’s encouraging moans and whispers and cries of pleasure vibrating through his body.

“Chu,” the tailor bit down on his tongue, attempting to stop the flow of words that were about to spill out, but as Julian clenched hot and tight around him, Garak was unable to keep his traitorous mouth closed. A rhythmic, clicking, hissing collection of sounds sprung forth; the doctor had no idea what Garak was saying, although he did catch the word [zahsehv’I], “beautiful,” and of course, the Kardasi pronunciation of his name. Lots of Chu'lian, Chu'lian, Chu'lian...

Julian knew Garak was getting close, and he desperately wanted to watch his partner lose control. He hooked his legs around Garak’s muscular back and arched upwards.

“Fill me up,” he pleaded, and Garak’s motions faltered as he thrusted once, twice more, then came with a guttural cry. He clutched Julian close as he pulsed inside him, shuddering under the doctor’s hot hands tracing over his back. It wasn’t long before Garak had completely soaked the both of them and the bed. Julian had been so concerned the first time he’d experienced it; he remembered how worried he’d been about Garak being dehydrated. Now, he knew better, and he knew that whenever he ended up completely drenched like this, well. It meant his partner had quite enjoyed himself (which always meant that he had, as well). Eventually, Garak rolled off Julian, but not before nibbling on the doctor's delightfully shapely collarbones.

"Oh my god, Elim,” Julian panted, feeling rather boneless as he laid in a puddle on the mattress, “I didn’t – oh, god - that was absolutely incredible.” He reached out for Garak and was rewarded with a pair of strong, scaly arms wrapped tightly around him. Garak’s famously sharp tongue was silent for a while.

“I suppose that’s all I’m good for, then? A reliable source of sexual pleasure to satisfy your many carnal needs, Doctor?”

Julian propped himself up on his elbow. This was also a long running joke between them, but tonight, Garak’s voice sounded almost forlorn, and his eyes were again flat and lifeless. Why was Garak asking these sorts of questions? It was at least the third time this evening that Garak had expressed similar… sentiments. Should he be sincere and risk a cutting remark or worse, a convoluted lie, from the Cardassian? Or should he argue the point to reassure Garak that yes, obviously, he was quite attracted to him? Julian decided to thread the needle. “You think I only desire you for your admittedly astounding sexual prowess?” the doctor scoffed. “Don’t be absurd. You know as well as I do that I’d look like a ragged street urchin from a… from a Dickens holodeck program without your skilled hands tailoring my clothing.”

That got a roaring laugh out of Garak, who rubbed his chin all over Julian’s jaw and collarbones, leaving behind a delightfully spicy, familiar scent. “That’s quite a description. I shudder at the thought of my dear Doctor roaming the station in rags,” he said dryly.

“And we both know that if I wasn’t lucky enough to have you by my side, I’d be in even worse shape,” Julian whispered into Garak’s ear, watching the ridges on his neck move in response. “Tattered. Threadbare. Moth-eaten.” Garak chuckled and pressed his forehead to Julian’s, humming in the way he sometimes did when he was feeling particularly affectionate; the sound resonated through Julian’s entire body. The doctor mouthed gently at the scales on Garak’s neck ridges, then started to tap on the ridges around Garak’s eyes. He let out a slow exhale as Julian continued.

It was an old Cardassian trick to get a baby to sleep, Garak had told him once. He said it was a habit many Cardassians fell back on during times of stress. Julian suspected it was actually just something that Garak enjoyed, and he’d been happy to learn the tapping patterns to perform across Garak’s neck, face, and forehead.

“Well.” Garak opened his mouth slowly, feeling a bit wrung-out from the evening’s activities and the rhythmic taps from his doctor. “Given the state you’re in now, we wouldn’t want to risk that, would we?” Garak’s trademark sass was back in full effect, and Julian smiled to himself. Perhaps he’d helped Elim through whatever rough patch he’d been going through after all.

“I suppose not, but don’t think I didn’t hear your knees clicking as you fucked me into the mattress.”

“Oh!” Garak swatted Julian’s arse, then took a handful of it and jiggled it around. “Must you always refer to our lovemaking in such vulgar and crass Terran colloquialisms?” Julian let out a noise that Garak recognized as the sound his partner made when he rolled his eyes. “All right, all right. I shall wait until morning to continue educating you on the finer points of Cardassian philosophy regarding intimate matters between lovers. Good night then, my most dear Doctor.”

“Good night, my [tuvUr],” Julian murmured. The way the Kardasi for ‘partner’ rolled off Julian’s tongue was clumsy, but still managed to bowl Garak over every time he heard it. The doctor turned over to be the ‘little spoon,’ as he’d explained it to Garak, (assuring him that the Terran expression held no malice), and Garak snuggled up against his back as he always did. He breathed in the scent at the nape of Julian’s neck.

The dear Doctor Bashir, Julian, Chu'lian; the only point of warmth in Garak’s entire existence. Would his original plan hold up, or was he about to risk extinguishing this, too?

Garak took a shaky breath and proceeded to stare out the window into space for a solid eight hours.


	3. Distant Attentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garak's stress levels keep rising and Julian is forced to step in. Thankfully, after a bit of tender medical care, they're able to enjoy an evening out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to wrap this up, I really did, but these two have their own ideas! one more chapter. sorry for dragging it out!!

Garak blinked his eyes slowly. Why was it so ghastly bright? He had been doing detail work last he remembered, affixing the last of a decorative trim to his...

“Ah, the patient awakens.” Doctor Bashir stood before him, his arms crossed, a familiar look on his face.

“Patient?” Garak looked around; he was indeed in the infirmary. “Although I always appreciate the personal touch, Doctor, when did I become a patient? Why am I here?”

“Why are you _here_? Well, you're here because _apparently_ you passed out in your shop, and if Quark hadn't gone in for his scheduled fitting, god only knows how long you would have been there,” Julian's voice was stern and clinical, but Garak heard the concern underneath. “I would have brought you in for testing much sooner, but it wasn't until last week that I noticed you aren't eating. You've lost fifteen percent of your body weight in the past month, Garak. What in the heavens is going on?”

“Oh, I’m surprised you don’t know, Doctor, seeing as how you are practicing medicine on a former Cardassian station.” Garak brought a hand to his forehead, stalling for time. “It’s the month of Ha'a'vek in the Cardassian calendar, at this time, it’s traditional for us to fast. I, however, have found that I am out of practice,” Garak said as he took Julian's offered hand and slowly sat up.

“How many months are in the Cardassian calendar?” Julian asked with a furrowed brow.

“Seventeen,” Garak lied, knowing that would put his last 'fasting period' during a time when he and Julian were not as close, and therefore wouldn't have noticed.

“Okay.” It didn't entirely sound like Julian believed him; the doctor still had an exasperated look on his face. “It's lucky I am practicing medicine on a former Cardassian station, or I might not have had the correct electrolyte solution to give you, or any knowledge of where to put it,” he said, tapping to the intravenous line attached to the inside of Garak's wrist, right where it connected to his palm.

“Doctor, since the unfortunate incident with the wire, I've never doubted your unparalleled skills for a second-”

“Stop it. This is serious.” Julian spit the words out, clipped and staccato. Then, after he gently pressed his palm to Garak's: “It's just – I worry about you, you know that.”

Garak swallowed. To date, nearly every part of this elaborate plan had gone wrong. If he'd thought for a moment he was still important enough for his personal relationships to be sabotaged, he'd swear that was what was happening. Was it true what Terrans said about a specific piece of legislation passed long ago, by someone named Murphy? He doubted even Enabran Tain himself could come up with a way to thwart every one of his painstaking efforts like this. “And for that, my dear Doctor, I am sorry.” Surprise flashed over Julian's features; it was clear he wasn't expecting a sincere apology so soon.

“All's forgiven,” Julian said, smiling now, albeit softly; Garak would never cease to marvel at his ability to let things _go_ so quickly. If they ever went back to Cardassia, he'd have to guard him within an inch of his life, Julian was so trusting and – Garak was distracted from these dangerous thoughts by a warm kiss against his jaw. Oh, what truly dangerous thoughts he'd allowed himself to have. There was no guarantee of tonight going well, and certainly no guarantee he'd ever be allowed to return home. “I gave you the electrolytes about a half hour ago,” he said, doctor mask firmly back on. “How are you feeling? Any dizziness?” he asked as he carefully removed the line and bandaged up Garak's wrist.

Garak shook his head. “No.”

“Are you feeling weak? Do you have a headache.”

“No, Doctor, as usual, thanks to your fastidious care, I am feeling far better than I was a few hours ago.”

Julian smiled, but then his face fell. “I'm sorry. I hope I haven't interrupted something that is supposed to be, uh, un-interruptable. Or that can't be corrected.”

“Interrupted?”

“The fast,” Julian clarified. “I felt I had no choice but to give you nutrients. I caused you to break your fast. It was for your health, but I hope I haven't caused offense.”

As usual, Julian's continued care and thoughtfulness rendered Garak speechless; he allowed his tongue to click the roof of his mouth for a moment before chuckling and finding a way to acknowledge this undeserved consideration. “Ahh, Doctor, I recall you telling me about Terran fasts, and some of the traditions of your ancestors. It seems many Terran fasts are related to religious activities, similar to Bajoran fasts. No need to worry, no offense caused. It may not surprise you to discover that the fast during the month of Ha'a'vek isn't a religious observance; rather, it's considered an act of devotion to the State, a time to reflect upon the values passed down through centuries of Cardassian literature and art.” Garak shot Julian a self-satisfied smile.

Julian rolled his eyes. “All right. Well. As long as I don't have to re-read every classic piece of Cardassian literature with you.”

Garak gasped. “You mean to tell me you haven't found every work I've given you riveting? Compelling? Engrossing?”

“I'm quite relieved you're back to your old self,” Julian said fondly. “Although, I was looking for one the Hebitian sagas you gave me the other day and I couldn't find it.”

“How are _you_ feeling, Doctor?” Garak asked, quickly changing the subject.

“Me, hmm. Um, well, I'm – I guess I'm all right,” Julian said as he stretched his long arms above his head, “although it's been a bit of a long day at the office.” He gave Garak a pointed look, and then a kiss. Not so bad, really.

“Why don't you come with me.” Garak stood, making sure he was steady on his feet before taking Julian’s hand and placing it in the crook of his arm.

“Where are we going?”

“Don’t your legs need a stretch after standing still in the infirmary all day, Doctor?”

Julian huffed a bit, then stood and followed Garak out the door. He did seem to be feeling better, as he was back to his usually snappy, snarky self. “In all seriousness, Garak, where are we going?” Julian asked once they approached the promenade. “You ought to be resting. Really, fasting can be dangerous for even those in peak condition, and-”

“Even those in 'peak' condition?” Garak stopped and fixed Julian with a withering stare. “If you’re suggesting I’m an ancient, washed up disgrace, I might need to make some significant changes to our plans for the evening,” he huffed.

“No, Garak, no, that’s not what I meant.” Julian smacked his forehead with his hand. “As usual, my mouth is faster than my good sense. It’s just - you’re always too cold on this station. I believe it puts a great amount of physical stress on you. And fasting causes a slowdown in metabolism, even in the most famously tough of Cardassian specimens.” Julian paused to bring his hand up to the side of Garak’s neck. The concern in the doctor’s eyes was too much for Garak to bear, and he looked away, overwhelmed by the tenderness and intimacy of the moment. Then Julian took it a step further and pressed his forehead to Garak’s - on the promenade! in front of every person on the blasted station! - and Garak thought he felt the dizziness creeping back up on him.

“Doctor, perhaps we should continue on to our destination, so we may engage in further conversation in a more suitable environment.”

“All right. But I won’t allow you to overdo it tonight, Garak. Fasting is difficult on the body, and it can’t be easy when you’re in an environment that is so far from ideal for your species.” Julian waited for Garak to answer, but the Cardassian kept his gaze facing forward and said nothing. “I won't allow you to overdo it,” Julian repeated, elbowing Garak in the side.

“Fine. I'm not one to disobey medical orders.” Garak sighed dramatically, mostly to try to cover the fact that he was trembling, and not from lack of caloric intake.

Julian barked out a loud laugh. “Well, we both know that's a lie.” They continued walking down the promenade until Garak guided them into Quark's. Julian shot Garak a quizzical look when they sat down at their usual table.

“I think that you were right, Doctor,” Garak said with a broad smile.

Julian cocked his head and squinted at Garak. “_I'm_ right? You think I'm right about something?”

“It would be a good idea for me to eat something.” Garak nodded at Quark, who recognized the signal they had established over a month ago. He reached for Julian's hand and ran his thumb tenderly over the doctor's knuckles, making sure he didn't notice Quark sending Rom into the holosuite hall.

“Good evening to the both of you. It's on the house tonight,” Quark said, bringing over two plates with Julian's favorite fish curry and saffron rice.

“On the house?!” Julian exclaimed. “On the house? What have we-” Julian's attention turned to Garak, “-what has _he_ done for us to get a meal on the house?”

“_Two_ meals on the house.” Quark patted Julian on the shoulder. “Don't mention it. Just a favor for two of my most valued customers.” Julian watched as Garak's eyes narrowed. “All right, all right, I'll let you two enjoy your evening,” Quark said as he backed away from the table.

Julian wasted no time in stuffing a forkful of fish curry into his mouth. “What did you _do_?” he asked Garak.

“Oh, just a _small_ favor. Quark's been needing some extra data rods and memory storage for all his unique holosuite programs, I happen to know an Andorian trader who owed me a favor,” Garak waved his hand around, “It was nothing, really.” Julian stared at Garak for a moment before deciding dinner was more important. They bickered and sparred; Garak complained and Julian rolled his eyes. By the time they'd finished eating, Julian seemed much more at ease. Garak was initially quite dismayed that he'd had to break the fast a few hours too soon, but the doctor was right; he'd needed the calories. His head felt clearer than it had in several weeks.

“Well, I'm about finished here,” Julian said, placing his napkin on the table and stretching. “Don't you think we should go back to our quarters? You look tired.”

Garak glanced at the clock behind the bar and Quark recognized another of his cues. “While I appreciate your continued observations on my health, _Doctor_, I am feeling quite invigorated from all the stimulating conversation and the delightful food. Perhaps you’d care to have an after-dinner drink with me and share your thoughts on There Are No Innocents?” Before Julian could object, Quark was tableside with two smaller-than-normal glasses filled with kanar.

Julian lolled his neck and let out a groan. “There Are No Innocents. My thoughts. Well, the title alone had me ready to toss my PADD against a wall, or perhaps slap it upside my own head!” He picked up his glass and sniffed the kanar. “The good stuff, huh?”

Garak was a master at the art of extending a conversation, but it was not easy work to capture Julian Bashir's attention. He needed to engage Julian's extraordinary mind and natural curiosity for at least another forty minutes.

“But of course. As for There Are No Innocents, Doctor, surely you can understand the rationale behind Cardassian legal practice after all our discussions!”

“Garak, I just don't understand how you can say that when...”

It worked like a charm, and Julian kept talking, returning all his volleys with the same grace and speed he did on the tennis court. By the time the doctor was making a firmer attempt to take Garak home to rest, the time was right.

“As always, Garak, our discussion has been enlightening and _enlivening_. But surely you must be tired after the day you've had. In my professional opinion, you could use some rest.” Julian placed his hand over Garak's “Shall we head back to our quarters?”

“You know, I think the fish, the kanar, and of course, the company, has worked its delightful magic on me. I am feeling light and lively in a way I haven't felt in a very long time. Come,” Garak said, standing and heading towards the holosuites. “There’s a special program I've been meaning to show you.”

“But it’s so late,” Julian protested.

“Perhaps if you were working tomorrow, it would be considered late.”

Julian thought about that for a moment. “Ahh, well. I suppose you're right, but-”

“After you, Doctor.” Garak stopped in front of the last door on the left and held his arm out, his head tilted downwards.

Julian stood still and crossed his arms. “Garak, what’s all this about?” he asked exasperatedly. “You’re acting rather strange, even for you. And I’m worried about your caloric intake, or lack thereof. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“I’m afraid it can’t, Doctor. You see, I don’t own the program. One could say it was – _borrowed_,” Garak said, making sure to infuse the word with an air of mystery. “I must return it by the end of the day.”

“There are exactly three minutes left until the end of the day,” Julian said flatly.

Garak was smiling – no, grinning – now, and Julian's annoyance quickly turned to curiosity. He opened the door to the holosuite and a wall of warmth rushed forth. The unmistakable silhouettes of Cardassian architecture appeared on the skyline, a pink and orange sunset decorating the space between the moon and the horizon. “I meant by the end of the day, on Cardassia Prime,” he said, gesturing to the scene before them. “My dear Julian, would you do me the honor of joining me on an adventure?”

“Well. When you put it like that.” Julian smiled and placed his hand in Garak's arm.

* * *

They walked slowly into the city together, Julian watching Garak gesture across the scene before them. “Welcome to Kardasi’or, Doctor Bashir, the capital city; this is the home of the Cardassian Union. If you'll look to the right, you can see the government buildings, the Ministry of Finance, Civil Development, and the military headquarters are just behind there,” Garak pointed. When I lived in the city, I was in the Imperial neighborhood, which is just a few minutes this way.” Garak placed his hand over Julian's where it was rested in the crook of his arm.

“Are you going to show me where you used to live?” Julian asked incredulously.

“No, Doctor, but I did plan to take you by a few locations that might pique your interest, if you are so inclined. We are eight hours behind Deep Space Nine, so there is no rush.”

“Garak, this is-” Julian could taste the dust in the air and smell the fragrance from the white flowers on the blooming vines; it was one of the most realistic holosuite programs he'd ever experienced. “-this is amazing! It's like – I feel like I'm actually on Cardassia Prime! How did you get your hands on this program?”

“Hmm. I'm not sure it would be wise for me to reveal my sources.” Garak led him down an alley, and then they arrived at a three-way intersection with a few shops on the corner. Julian's eye was drawn to the shop with a few green and maroon dresses in the window; the style looked familiar and... oh!  
  
“Garak, is this – it's your?” Julian was so excited he couldn't even form a sentence.

“Indeed it is. This was my old shop, the way it looked many years ago.” Garak opened the door and Julian followed him inside. It was about the same size as his shop on the promenade, but the walls were covered in patterns and colors and the furniture was a rich deep brown that resembled mahogany. The beams of the ceiling didn't exactly look like wood, but they were exposed and intricately carved as if they were. A rich green carpet covered the floor, and the shop had a fresh, woodsy, slightly spicy scent to it; it took Julian several minutes to notice the flowering plants that were growing out of the walls and in the windows.

“Garak, again, you've – I'm quite impressed,” Julian said. He saw a garment with the asymmetrical neckline he so loved and ran his fingers over the metallic deep brown trim. “I can see why all the_ handsome_ young men came here for their high-class garments.” He smirked at Garak, and regretted it instantly.

The tip of Garak's nose flushed and something in his facial expression collapsed, almost imperceptibly; but Julian caught it for a moment before it disappeared. “As you may have learned in the time we've known one another, I am actually a rather skilled tailor, and my portfolio is quite diverse. Excuse me for just a moment.”

Julian heard the change of tone and saw Garak's body language shift before he disappeared behind a partition that he assumed was a changing room. He nearly called out an apology into the space, but decided to wait until they were face to face; after all, Garak had arranged quite the evening for them both, and he didn't seem to find that particular joke funny anymore. Perhaps it was time to let it go. Julian heard the rustling of fabric and was preparing his apologetic words when Garak emerged in an outfit that snatched them right from his mouth.

“Elim,” Julian's jaw dropped. He'd never seen Garak in this color before, a deep aubergine that faded into a midnight purple at the ends of the sleeves and the base of the trousers. The structure of the garment was similar to the tunics that Garak wore daily, but it was obviously much more formal, perhaps the Cardassian equivalent of a tuxedo, Julian supposed. The fabric was heavyweight, and shimmered in the light, showing off the iridescence and the horizontal embellishments on the upper sides of the sleeves. It looked like a garment Garak had shown him once, a commission for a retired Legate who had somehow remained cordial with the tailor despite his exile; the only difference was that the deep purple suit Garak currently wore had a much more modest neckline, with a crescent-shaped flap of dramatic golden fabric attached at the top of the garment just below Garak's throat. It was intricately beaded and offered the same effect as a statement necklace, though the beads were in rows against the fabric instead of hanging down in strands. He certainly would never forget the significance of a high neckline for a formal occasion. Julian struggled to remember what this ensemble was called as he watched the way the light reflected from the golden fabric onto the ridges of Garak's jaw.

“Would you believe me if I told you the mijast is one of the most formal garments in the Cardassian wardrobe?” Garak asked with a smile on his face.

“I – yes, I absolutely would,” Julian stammered. “It looks – _you_ look incredible.”

“I'm glad you appreciate the view, my dear. For many years, I thought I might never be able to wear one of these.” Something about the way the words rolled off Garak's tongue gave Julian pause. At first listen, it sounded as though it were just about Garak's exile, but... “Doctor, are you still with me?”

Julian blinked. “Yes, yes, of course.”

“If you'll accompany me to the third door on the right, there is something for you to wear for the rest of our time here. If you'd like.” Garak gestured for Julian to go ahead.

“Oh!” Julian loved, absolutely _loved_, surprises. Garak loved that about him. He quickly made his way into the room, only to see it empty.

“Have you got something for me? Where's the-”

“I hate to keep asking it of you, dear Doctor, but would you indulge me once again? It's a rather complicated piece of clothing. Traditionally, one requires an attendant to help get in and out of it.”

“Ah, well.” Julian chuckled. “Seeing as how we are on Cardassia, I'd hate to deny you any more of your traditions today than I already have,” he said so earnestly that Garak felt a sharp tugging in his chest.

_Elim, you old sentimental fool_, he thought. “Face me, [spring].”

“Spring?” Julian asked as he quickly stripped down to his pants, then turned to face Garak.

“I fear the universal translator doesn't do the expression justice. Remind me about it later. I have one last request.”

“Yes?” Julian asked eagerly. The heat from his body radiated right through Garak's mijast and he wanted nothing more than to... wait, wait. Focus. Not now. Not with something so important on the line.

“May I dim the lights, my dear? I would prefer as _dramatic_ a reveal as possible,” Garak said in a low voice. Julian, slightly flustered, nodded. Once the lights went down, he stood still; he always forgot how sensitive Cardassian eyesight was. He could barely see anything, but Garak was working as though completely unaffected. The tailor's steady hands guided his to a bar on the wall, gently lifting one leg, then the other, sliding a pair of trousers up to his waist, Garak's fingers fastening those infernal secret Cardassian-style clasps that had taken him months to master, then one of his arms being threaded into a lightweight fabric that fastened into a high neckline. He felt Garak's hands wandering across the garments, fastening, fussing, picking away a stray thread, smoothing everything down. Then, a moment of stillness, and Garak was slowly brought up the lights.

Julian was now truly stunned into silence. He was dressed in the most beautiful garment he had ever seen. (Aside from his anniversary present. And perhaps the beaded peacock top. It was hard to decide; Garak was really quite a good tailor.) It was indeed, a high-class garment; a pink, orange, yellow, and purple ombre, floor-length jacket with a high, architectural neckline. The fabric was a brocade that looked heavy, but was light and breathable. The overlay was golden, woven atop the ombre in the shapes of leaves and vines. Julian couldn't resist touching the metallic threads, under his fingers they felt as fine as light sutures, and even under his well-maintained surgeon's hands, it seemed like one or two of the delicate stitches snagged against his skin. Over the jacket was a secondary layer; a beaded cape designed to flow behind the wearer as they moved, as Julian quickly discovered while adjusting the neckline. The strings of beads clinked against one another, making sounds almost like tiny bells.

“What do you think of your kis'mik, Doctor?” Garak was standing behind him, holding out the edge of the beaded cape, and locking eyes with Julian through the mirror.

“It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,” Julian said reverently, noting how Garak's neck ridges flushed darker after the compliment. “I've never seen you work in these colors before. It's the same color as the one you sent off to Cardassia Prime a few weeks ago.” Julian attempted to turn to face Garak, only to be held in place by a solid pair of arms. As he looked at their reflection in the mirror, Julian noticed that their outfits truly complemented one another; it was as if Garak's mijast was the continuation of Julian's kis'mik. “It looks even better next to yours,” he said, taking Garak's hand.

“Ah, yes, Doctor. Sunrise,” he said, gesturing to Julian's lighter garment, “and sunset.”

“They're absolutely stunning, Elim, I -” Julian suddenly felt completely giddy; he didn't often get a chance to see or be seen with Garak in the way he was used to with previous partners. Besides the reasonable security concerns about the safety of a former Obsidian Order agent, there were hardly any invitations extended to the lone Cardassian on a Bajoran station. They looked _official_ in a way Julian didn't even know he'd been wanting until he saw it laid out before him in full, vibrant color. It was easy to let his mind wander, and Julian allowed himself the luxury before he felt Garak grasp the lapel of the jacket.

“There's only one final step left to complete the ensemble,” Garak said, reaching into one of his interior pocket and pulling out something small and delicate. It was a long, slender pin with two stones on one end; both were greenish-gold, with flecks and swirls of a rich sienna within then, but one stone was more green and the other more golden. The pin had a slight organic curve to it, like a vine, perhaps. As Garak opened it up and carefully pushed the sharp end into the fabric, Julian could swear he felt the puncture as it pressed through the brocade. He laughed. “This is the most realistic holosuite program I've ever been in,” he said. “Even the fabric feels – it all feels so _real_.”

“It did take me quite a long time to obtain this program. I'm so pleased you've decided to join me here this evening.” Garak's eyes were sparkling; against the deep purple of the mijast, they looked more turquoise than icy blue, and even his scales seemed to be picking up iridescence from somewhere.

“I'm sure I don't even want to know what it cost.” Julian turned around and looked at the back of the garment over his shoulder. “This is absolutely beautiful, Garak.”

“It only works well on a particular body type,” Garak said with a sly smile.

“Flatterer.” Julian turned to face him. “Perhaps I can convince you to make me one of these someday.”

“So it is to your liking, Chu'lian?” Garak asked, his hands turned upwards, palms facing the ceiling, a hint of... something... in his voice Julian hadn't heard before. It caught him off guard, and his mouth felt dry in a way that had nothing to do with the hot air.

“It's absolutely to my liking, Elim,” Julian finally said, which caused Garak to do a slow blink with his third eyelid. Something was going on here, Julian just wasn't sure what.

“We still have some time to explore, if you'd like?” Garak again offered Julian his arm, and the allure of a formal night out on Cardassia Prime proved to be too much for Julian to resist. They walked out of the shop into the beginnings of a gorgeous twilight in shades of pink, purple, orange, and violet.

–

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOOD LORD. every time I try to write fluff for these two? it gets a bit smutty at some point. whenever I try to write just something sexy, it turns into the sappiest most tender sentimental shit, I'll see myself out. LOL. I love writing these two complex characters. "Mijast" is a word picked up from @AlphaCygni's incredible INCREDIBLE "Especially the Lies." It's a formal garment Garak breaks out for a fancy event and I felt the word should get added in here and probably everywhere, so thank you AC for giving me the okay to add it in here. I am deep in my feelings. And 2k words into the final chapter, so don't worry, I'm hoping to have this done sooner than the last few months have allowed with 3 jobs and the holidays. Happy New Year everyone!


	4. Please Consider My Request

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally have the ending!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey wow so the world fell apart since I last updated this huh? wow. what absolute batshit times. Anyways I finally finished this, I hope its a satisfactory conclusion and I apologize for it taking so long! thanks to everyone who followed along and left lovely and encouraging comments.

“This isn’t – is this the way we came in?” Julian asked as they headed down an unfamiliar street. 

“Very observant, Doctor. Just taking a slight detour.” Garak kept his gaze straight ahead. 

“It seems like the sunset is - well, it seems like it’s been happening for so long. Is that in my head?” Julian asked, looking up at the sky. “Or is that part of the program?”

“No, that's part of the innate charm of Cardassia Prime. As you know, it's a rather dusty and dry planet. The dust storms are not a part of any Cardassian's definition of 'beauty,' but it's the dust particles suspended in the air which refract the light of the sun. Hence the illusion that the sunset lasts for hours.”

“That's absolutely fascinating.” Julian's attention was captured by bright lights ahead; they had headed to a market that was still bustling with activity. Garak guided them gracefully through the crowds and to a small booth with deep peacock blue and copper curtains separating it from the other stalls. Julian saw shallow trays lined with forest green velvet and caught a glimpse of silver and gold rings and bands nestled within. “Is this a... jewelry store, Garak?” Julian reached down to brush his fingers against the velvet, then thought better of it. 

“Yes, it’s a jeweler and metal smith, I believe that translates?”

“Yes, it does,” Julian said, staring at the ornate pins and pendants hanging on fabric to his left. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the Cardassian predilection for ornate decoration and impeccable craftsmanship extends to jewelry.”

“Of course, my dear. The pin,” Garak tapped a nail to it and clinked the metal, “is a gift for you.” 

“It's real?” 

“It belonged to my grandmother.” Garak wasn’t sure if this was true or not; only that he wasn’t quite ready to talk about his mother.

Julian’s gaze softened. “You’re giving me a family heirloom?”

This was welcomed news; apparently family heirlooms carried similar cultural significance on Earth. “Yes. You may recall the day it arrived from Cardassia Prime.”

“The day it... ?” Julian asked, then realizing what had transpired that day, the day he'd set up what he thought was a nice little prank for his boyfriend. “Ahh, yes. That day. I certainly remember it.” He felt his cheeks grow warm. 

Garak loved to watch the way Julian blushed; the hints of red that appeared first on his cheekbones, then moved up to his hairline. “It was quite a memorable day, Doctor.” 

“Indeed it was.” Garak held up the clear tray with the distinctive stones inside it. “I was born in Girav province. These stones, bal’kara’a, are found only there, typically at the river's edge. I'm not sure if you ever finished The Season of Rain?” Garak had given Julian the novel about seven months ago, just before they'd started talking about moving in together. 

“I did, finally!” Julian's face lit up. “I finished it a few weeks ago, actually, but things have been so busy. We've hardly even had time for lunch.” 

“Ah. Your attentions have indeed been spread thin as of late,” Garak said flatly. 

“Yes, sadly, it’s true. I think this is the most time we’ve spent together in... god, since when?” Julian recalled the last few months; he and Garak had been like ships in the night more often than not. 

“Well, Doctor,” Garak said after clearing his throat, “the important part is that you finished the novel. So you should remember how the stones are mined.”

“Yes, uh, they, aren’t they collected at the edge of the river only in the monsoon season?” Garak nodded. “I remember something about mud,” Julian added. 

“Yes, it was once common custom for those from my province to mine them ourselves, twice in a lifetime.”

“Only twice? Are they that rare?”

“The rarity of the stone is not the reason. As you know, Cardassians are quite rigid in our rituals. It has to do with when the stones are harvested. Both occasions mark the beginning of a new stage of life,” Garak said, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Ah, 'to everything there is a season,'” Julian mused. “Old Earth saying. Well, they're beautiful, Garak.” Julian examined the faceted stone and its swirls of green and gold. He could see a band of burnt ochre tracing through the center of the bal’kara. It looked remarkably like the river described by the novel. “Just beautiful,” he repeated, mesmerized. 

“They are beautiful, aren't they? They remind me of your eyes.” 

Julian had a witty retort on the tip of his tongue, but it fizzled away and he was left speechless as he stared into Garak’s icy blue eyes. He decided not to try to continue speaking and held his palm up for Garak to press his against it. 

“My, it takes quite a lot to render the Good Doctor Bashir speechless,” Garak said, a hint of a smile starting to creep up on his face. 

“I’d call this a lot.” Julian gestured around to the lifelike scene they were in. “A special program from Cardassia Prime, all for you to give me such a lovely gift.” He tilted his head downwards, encouraging Garak to press his forehead to his, “thank you, Garak, this has been quite the evening.”

“And there’s still more to explore, Doctor, if you can believe it.”

Julian blinked. “You’re sure you’re not tired? You passed out just a few hours ago.”

“I thought you’d like to know a bit more about your humble tailor’s home planet. While I still have access to the program, that is.”

“You - you thought. You. You? Are freely giving away information?” Julian made an exaggerated reach for him. “Sorry, had to check to see if you were a hologram.”

“Very funny, Doctor.” Garak sighed and held his hands out. “I’m merely attempting to educate you on all things Cardassian, so that we might experience... continued improvement in our communications.”

Julian paused. He’d learned to parse through the complicated layers of Kardasi phrases and while he certainly didn’t know everything, he could now recognize when a phrase had multiple meanings. Anything in future or future advanced tense was generally serious. Something about the way the sentence flowed from Garak’s lips stuck with him. “Continued improvement is the ultimate goal,” he responded with a tilt of his head; in Kardasi body language, this meant _invitation, please continue_.

“Besides, it's just a simulation.” Garak said, hoping Julian would interpret the nervousness in his voice as some sort of longing for Cardassia, which is exactly what Julian did; Garak could read it in the lines around his eyes and the slight curve of the corners of his lips. 

“Absolutely,” Julian responded quietly, a genuine look of concern on his face.

“You remember your vocabulary lesson from a few months ago,” Garak said.

Julian laughed. “How could I forget? I made quite the scene in front of those visiting Cardassians.” 

“Indeed you did.”

“And I will never forget the word [hu'verxt,] or any of its associated connotations.” Julian said playfully.

Garak hummed, then clasped his hands together and stood absolutely still for a moment that seemed to stretch its way out. “Seeing as how we are currently on Cardassia Prime, I thought this would be an excellent time to add some... additional context.” 

“You did?” Julian stepped closer to Garak and laid his lanky arms over the tailor's shoulders. “I can think of some other ways we might pass the time in here.” He kissed the side of Garak's neck, letting his warm breath linger over the sensitive scales. 

“Yes, I did, my dear, it's rather important.” Garak grasped his wrists and removed them from his shoulders.

“Didn't you say it could also refer to something else? I forget.” Julian looked utterly stunning in his kis'mik, the iridescent pink and gold shimmering and rippling as he crossed his arms, then scratched the back of his neck.

“Yes, I did. The word is - well, how should I explain this. You know that written and spoken Kardasi follow different rules-“

Julian sighed heavily. “Indeed I do.”

Garak rolled his eyes and continued. “Of course such an eager student would remember this fact. In the written form, the four marks that combine to make [hu’verxt] are prestige, battle, safety, and prize. And, as you know, each mark’s placement indicates an extension of the word or phrase.” He hoped Julian didn't notice the slight tremor in his hand as he brushed an imaginary speck of dirt off the front of his mijast. 

“Oh, I’ll surely never forget the night you tried to teach me the difference between ‘making love gently, with the care given to a just-sprouted seed,’ and… what was it?”

“I believe the Terran phrase you used was ‘fucking like two alley cats in heat’ although the Kardasi connotations of the word [plik’tit’t] really don’t have a Federation Standard equivalent.” Garak shot Julian a murderous glare as the doctor collapsed into undignified giggles. Julian placed a hand on Garak’s shoulder to steady himself and after a few snorts of laughter, pulled himself back upright and patted his hands down the front of his kis’mik.

“All right, all right. I apologize. Please, continue,” Julian finally said.

“It should come as no surprise that the exact written Kardasi will not translate to a single word, then. The full meaning of [hu’verxt,] as it’s written, is ‘the safety of one who does not have to go into battle.’”

“Hmm.” He finally had Julian’s full attention, so Garak decided to lay it on thick.

“Popular usage came about during a time in which Cardassian society was quite dangerous; it was considered a great risk to leave one’s home. Those who had high social standing, military leaders, members of government, were able to leave their homes safely and provide for their families on the basis of this, and their spouses did not have to leave. Anyone who could reduce the risk to their family was considered… wealthy beyond measure,” he said dramatically.

“Your people have such a fascinating history, Garak,” Julian said.

“A more accurate translation of the word into Standard would be, ‘the prestige of being able to keep one’s prize out of the danger of battle.’ And that’s how the word is used when it refers to a spouse.”

Julian paused. “A spouse?” 

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Julian looked at Garak, but said nothing, and the tailor felt the high golden collar of his mijast tightening around his neck. “That's interesting,” Julian said after a long pause. “There's an old expression on Earth, but I’m not sure it would be an exact equivalent. Most likely not.” 

“Oh?” Garak raised an eyebrow ridge and paused. “Care to enlighten me, Doctor?”

“On Earth, people might call that sort of relationship a ‘trophy wife.’” 

“A trophy wife?” Garak asked. “So, on Earth, the phrase wouldn’t apply to you?” 

“No, well, it’s,” Julian paused and tilted his head in the way he always did when his mind was working faster than his mouth, “typically it’s used in such a gendered way because of the social history. It took a very long time on Earth for women to achieve parity in pay and in social standing. The phrase was coined during a time in which it was far more common for a man to be wealthy and looking for a wife who would function as a trophy, basically.” 

“How utterly fascinating. In Cardassian culture, the focus has always been more on the acquisition of power, and based on a far more complex system than just monetary wealth. Even before we ended the usage of currency, it was this way,” Garak added. 

“Right, so, you see, ‘trophy wife’ doesn’t have quite the same association.” Julian closed one eye and placed his chin in his hand. “Or perhaps it might. You see, on earth it can come across in several ways.”

“Go on.”

“Well, if someone other than the spouse says it about the trophy wife, it tends to get used in the, in the,” Julian stammered and Garak watched his beautiful fingers fluttering in the air as though the doctor was trying to grasp the words in mid-flight, “perjorative sense. Typically to say that a trophy wife is – well, how to explain it – it has a connotation of the wife existing only as a status symbol for the husband.”

“Quite interesting, Doctor.”

“However, if a husband called his spouse a trophy wife, or trophy husband, to their face, that would be seen as more of a compliment. Perhaps. Hmm. It’s hard to say, really, but that’s the only Terran phrase I can think of that’s similar.” Julian looked at him and shrugged. “Seems similar enough to me.”

“Do you understand the context of the word a bit better now, my dear?”

Julian laughed and that damned goofy grin that always made Garak feel warm appeared on his face. “Yes, I do,” he said in a low voice, “though you could have explained it a bit better a few months ago.”

“Well, you understand it now, that’s what is most important.”

“Slowly, Garak, slowly, I’m understanding. Very slowly. Cardassian culture has more layers than a… than a baklava,” Julian said.

“A what?”

“Baklava. It’s a dessert made of many thin layers of pastry.”

“Ah.”

“It’s typically covered with nuts, and honey, and ah, I could sure go for one right now, honestly. Remind me to replicate one for you when we’re back. And-“

“Doctor, would you believe me if I told you that today is an auspicious day on the Cardassian calendar?” Garak asked.

“Perhaps,” Julian said, walking closer to Garak, then crossing his slender arms in front of him, feeling the strings of beads rattle and vibrate with every movement. 

“Might I convince you to take one more walk with me, Chu’lian?” 

Julian was always touched when Garak said his name the way it would sound in Kardasi; it felt like a precious secret being shared with him. “But of course, Elim,” he said, placing his arm in the crook of Garak's arm and feeling delighted when Garak laid his other hand atop his. Garak led them out of the shop and down a tree-lined street. 

“This is such a wonderful holosuite program, I just can't get over it.” Julian said, taking in the smell of the blooming ss'lei flowers on the vines climbing up into the trees, the feel of the dust on his face and his sandal-clad feet, and of course, the warmth. They arrived at a beautiful fountain covered in diamond-shaped tiles. All were iridescent and the dominant colors ranged from yellow to pink or orange to purple. Julian took in the scene; once again, everything from the tiles on the fountain, the stones below his feet, and the last traces of the pink and purple sunset was reflected in Garak’s mijast and his kis’mik. Garak walked towards the fountain, and dipped his hands in, one at a time. He turned back to face Julian, and placed one hand over his chest. Julian could see he’d only gotten his fingers wet, up to where they met his palms, but no further. The doctor considered asking about it, then reconsidered. The whole thing was probably some intricate Cardassian ritual; if he asked, Garak would almost certainly lie shamelessly about it.

“Chu’lian, I ask that you consider my request.” Garak’s tone was so formal as to sound foreign.

“Your request?”

“I humbly request that you break the heat of the afternoon with me.”

Julian looked at Garak’s extended hand, and got a distinct feeling this request was more than just the oblique sentence the tailor had seemingly recited from memory. 

“That I – so you’re – asking me _something_.”

“Very good,” Garak said in a maddeningly level tone of voice.

“I meant, something is - I’m guessing this is important.”

“Correct again, doctor.” Garak smiled.

“But the way you said – what you just said – it's. I've read it somewhere before. Haven't I? I must have. It's in something you gave me,” Julian said, stepping closer. Garak couldn't believe the way the pink and orange played across Julian's face in the dim light; it was as though the sunset illuminated him from within. His hazel eyes picked up sparks of gold and reflected them back. Garak could only nod in response. “This is how The Season of Rain ended! Pelik asked Rilan this same question!”

“Yes, Pelik did. The Season of Rain is-”

“It's one of your favorites, you told me several times.” 

“Yes.”

Julian paused. Guilt washed over him as he remembered how he’d pushed the book aside for months before finally devoting the time to read it. “I'm sorry it took me so long.”

“You are a busy man, Doctor.”

“I should have finished it sooner. I didn’t understand at first how important it was to you, but now - I’m sorry. I should have read it sooner.”

“What did you say earlier? I believe something about everything occurring at its proper and appointed time?”

Julian completely ignored Garak’s remark and continued rambling, trying to put the pieces together “At the end of the novel, it ends with this, this ask, what did you say?”

“I humbly request that you break the heat of the afternoon with me.”

“That's a Cardassian way of asking for a commitment, isn't it?”

Garak tilted his head. “Cardassian culture is full of commitments, Doctor. You’ll have to specify.”

“But I’m correct in assuming this is a specific request.”

“Correct.”

Julian smiled. “Well, then. I accept.” He looked rather pleased with himself; his eyes sparkling like the bal’kara’a in the pin he’d graciously accepted.

Garak smiled back, but remained silent, enigmatic as always. “Are you… sure you understand my request, Chu’lian?” he asked after a long pause.

“What’s this all - this feels important, Garak, and I don’t want to miss anything.”

Garak raised up his chin. “Tell me the story.”

“From the novel?”

“Yes.”

“It’s one of your favorites, surely you don’t need me to-”

Garak held up a hand. “Humor me.”

“All right,” Julian said in a clipped tone. “So first we meet Pelik, who grows grain in the fields as part of a, some sort of punishment. And then Rilan comes along, and at first it - well, he really didn't like Pelik, but then-”

“Interesting,” Garak interjected.

Julian chuckled. “Ah. Yes, I suppose I’m coming at this from a Terran perspective.”

“Quite all right, carry on.”

“As time goes on, they get to know each other – they eat their meals together in the field.”

“Yes, they do.”

“And somehow they found time to – they _read_ to one another.” Garak loved the crease that appeared between Julian's brows when he was thinking; he could barely contain his glee as he watched the gears turning inside the doctor’s mind. 

Garak was smiling now, his arm still extended in a way Julian found far too formal for the discussion they were having. “Go on.”

“They read to each other, and they are - well, even thought they are always working, their conversations are only about literature.”

“Yes, one could say they were quite the experts on Cardassian epics and traditions-“

“It’s a romance novel, isn’t it?”

“What?”

Julian narrowed his eyes. “The Season of Rain. It’s a romance, isn’t it?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Garak said dramatically.

“It is a romance. I should have known,” Julian muttered, mostly to himself.

“Am I to interpret that as agreement?”

“I’m not a mind reader.” One of Julian's favorite phrases; it always sounded so natural coming from his mouth, even if it was during a disagreement. “If you want me to understand your request, I'm afraid you'll have to be far more blunt about it. I am, after all, not Cardassian.”

“No, my dear, you are not. Wonderfully human, you are.” Garak sucked in a sharp breath. “Well, with this garment, the family heirloom, and the gemstone from the province of my place of birth, I was,” Garak felt like he couldn’t breathe, “I was hoping to perhaps make a more honest man of you, Julian. And I truly hope I am using that idiom correctly.”

Julian’s mouth fell open as he realized exactly what Garak had been planning all this time: a proposal. “Garak - Elim,” he stammered. Garak stood still, his arm extended, waiting patiently for Julian to make his choice, to agree or decline. “This is - oh god, his is what you’d been working on for weeks-”

“Months.” Garak couldn’t resist the opportunity to correct the record, and did so with a sly smile. 

“-and I, I’ve gone and I’ve been – I am so dense. I didn’t know. I didn't know! I've, oh, I’ve ruined this,” Julian continued. 

“My most dear Doctor, you haven’t ruined anything,” Garak said. “There is nothing you could have done to stop me from asking you this most important question.”

Julian was smiling now, alternating between expressions of surprise and embarrassment. His eyes were sparkling like the bal'kara'a in the golden pin, and Garak watched as the tears spilled over and began tracking down his face. He sniffled, and delicately wiped the wetness from his cheeks. “Oh, oh, yes – you're waiting – right, of course I agree, Elim, obviously, yes, I will,” Julian blurted out as he reached for Garak’s hand, which was still suspended in place.

“Thank you for your timely answer, dear, I do a lot of work with these arms but they’re not what they used to be.”

“That's nonsense.” Julian placed a hand on Garak’s face and leaned in to kiss him. Just as Garak finally relaxed and softened into Julian’s touch, the doctor suddenly stopped and pulled back with a confused expression on his face.

“Oh, wait, was I not supposed to do that? Sorry. I get the feeling this is a rather intricate ritual.”

“No, Doctor, you may feel free to kiss me if you would like. And although this is a holosuite simulation, I feel the need to remind you that my enjoinment request is not.” Garak pursed his lips and briefly broke eye contact. Julian ran his ring finger over the Cardassian’s eyebrow ridge and hummed. 

“I’m well aware that your request is not simply for this holosuite program. And I would be quite disappointed if it were.” Garak once again met Julian’s gaze and a mischievous sparkle began to move across his icy blue eyes. “Oh!” Julian slapped his forehead. “I know what I was supposed to-” he held up his hand, “-hang on, hang on. Let me do this correctly.” He straightened up and stood at his full height.

“Correctly?” Garak asked, an eyebrow ridge raised.

“Yes, correctly.” Julian blew out a long breath and held out his arm. “It would be my pleasure to break the heat of every afternoon with you.”

Garak lifted his hand up for Julian to press his palm flat against his. “I hope you found at least some small enjoyment in the novel,” he said.

“I'd hardly call this small enjoyment,” Julian responded.

Garak hummed and held his palm to Julian's for a few moments more. “I suppose it's probably time for us to be on our way,” he said, gesturing to his right. “Computer, end program.” The Cardassian capital city slowly disappeared, as did the sounds of the ha’keth birds singing in the trees and the ss’lai’lei butterflies that had been flitting from flower to flower.

It was then that Julian looked down to see that the garment he'd tried on was still very much on his body. The shimmering gold thread now appeared more silver-toned under the harsh lights of the holosuite, and the colors had taken on more of a cool cast to them, but the kis’mik was in fact, real. The beads continued jingling against his arms and echoing off the walls.

“Elim,” Julian said breathlessly, “This is-”

“Yes, my Julian, this is the garment you saw me working on. One and the same.” Garak looked excessively pleased, bordering on smug. His aubergine mijast looked more on the purple side of things under the cool lighting, but it was just as flattering on the tailor as it had been in the warm glow of Cardassia Prime. 

“Garak, it's – I don't -” Julian struggled for the words “-exactly how did you sneak this in here?” Had Garak just called him by his name, in possessive? The dry Cardassian heat was gone, but Julian felt dizzy from everything rushing to his head. 

“My dear Doctor, according to rumor, I,” Garak paused for emphasis, placing a hand dramatically over his chest, “used to be a spy, why do you keep asking me questions like this?” He slung a possessive arm around Julian's waist and kissed the doctor – his doctor - soon to be his enjoined. 

Julian followed Garak out of the holosuite with his hand still in the crook of Garak’s arm. He expected to be greeted by a rowdy crowd at the bar, but there was nothing but perfect silence. It was well past 0230, and even Quark had gone home.

“You set every bit of this up,” Julian said after Garak had pulled a keycard out of his pocket and locked up the bar behind them.

“I don’t know what you mean by that, my dear.” 

Julian laughed. “Of course you don't. We just happened to be gone long enough for everything to be closed and everyone to be asleep by the time we left.” 

“It is rather late,” Garak said coyly. 

“It is, but I know for a fact Quark is often in the bar at this hour,” Julian responded, sneaking a kiss onto the ridge of Garak's jaw. 

“Often, not always.”

“'Not always' meaning when you ask to exit the holosuites with some privacy? Or when you intimidate him into - hey!” Julian laughed as Garak wiggled a strong finger in between two of his ribs.

“I did nothing of the sort. I only mentioned that I was thinking about doing business with one of Quark's competitors.”

Julian shook his head and slipped his hand into the crook of Garak's arm. He didn't even remember the journey back to their quarters, what with the butterflies in his stomach and the hammering of his heart in his chest. He didn’t even realize he was still wearing his kis’mik until Garak ran a hand under his arm from elbow to wrist; all the beads clinked together like the tubes of a wind chime.

“Something on your mind, Doctor?” Garak asked. Julian blinked, surprised to see him already out of his mijast. “Here,” he said, holding up a padded hanger, “let’s get this hung up properly.” He helped Julian out of the ornate and heavy garment and fussed with it a bit before carefully hanging it in the closet. Julian quickly slipped off his shirt and stood, silently watching Garak as he padded about their quarters, moving unimportant objects from place to place, running a hand over the glass tabletop. He then removed his undershirt and laid it on the clothing rack before picking up his maroon silk robe. Something about the way his grey fingers carefully tied the sash got to Julian, and he pounced; he had his lips smashed against Garak’s within seconds, his hands wandering over the Cardassian’s neckridges. Garak made a small noise of surprise, then began kissing him back while Julian slowly pushed him towards the bed.

“Just a few hours ago you were complaining about being tired. Now you’ve found your second wind?” Garak asked playfully. “Does the dull and rigid reality of a Cardassian-style enjoinment excite you, Doctor?”

“There’s never been a dull thing about you.” Julian nipped at the sensitive scales on the side of Garak’s neck, which elicited a delightful, desperate sort of sound from the tailor. He chuckled, then bit down a little harder, enough to make Garak actually cry out.

And as usual, Julian’s mind was running a mile a minute, his body was wired up, and he wasn’t thinking. He tossed Garak on the bed without a second thought; hard enough to cause the tailor’s hair to fly loose. _Damn it, Jules, you can’t let yourself go, you know that, you know better,_ he thought. Garak’s eyes narrowed and Julian breathed in slowly. They were about to be enjoined, a serious commitment that, even in Julian’s limited understanding of the custom, surpassed even the Terran concept of marriage. 

“Garak, I - I think there’s something I ought to tell you, before we’re,” Julian sat up and took Garak’s hand in his, “before we’re enjoined.”

Garak froze and shot Julian an icy glare. “I do hope you haven’t suddenly changed your mind, Doctor Bashir, or I might have to come out of retirement.”

Julian’s eyes went wide. Oh, this wasn’t what he’d intended at all. “No, no, no, of course not. It’s just - there’s something I feel you should know before we are, well, legally bound to one another. Something that might affect you.”

“Oh.” Garak propped himself up on his elbow. “If this is about your genetic alterations, I will kill anyone who threatens to reveal your secret,” he said without hesitation.

“Wait - Garak, that’s,” Julian’s head had been spinning all night and showed no signs of stopping now. “You knew?! All this time you knew?”

“Of course.” Garak blinked slowly, then shrugged.

Julian tilted his head; his brows were knit together and his mouth was open as though he were on the verge of saying something, but he remained quiet.

“Don’t look so surprised. There’s a lot of information one can glean from a single hair left behind after a fitting.”

“And you don’t - you don’t mind?” Julian asked incredulously.

“Why would I?”

“I don’t know, I’m - it’s - I guess it’s hard to explain to someone not from Earth. Technically, I'm forbidden from being here, from serving in Starfleet. If anyone were to find out...” Julian trailed off; the consequences of his alterations would be severe. He'd likely be thrown in the brig, not just removed from his position, and then what would that mean for Garak? Would they-

“On Cardassia, it’s considered an honor to keep someone’s secrets,” Garak said as he placed a gentle hand on Julian's arm, snapping the doctor back to the present moment. “It's a sign of trust, the most precious commodity in Cardassian culture. It can’t be bought or sold; only given or broken.”

“That much you’ve told me, but...” Julian thought of witnessing Garak's last moments with his father.

“But what?”

“I didn’t think it would ever be safe to tell anyone.” Julian looked down at his hands, and picked his cuticles in the way he often did when under stress. “Especially anyone here.”

“Even me?” Garak asked, an overwrought expression of mock offense on his face.

Julian shook his head. “I should have known.”

Garak laughed airily. “Surely you and your _brilliantly enhanced_ mind should have guessed that I would-”

“Hey!” Julian wrestled Garak over into his back; the tailor hooked a clawed foot under his knee and turned the tables, pushing Julian into the mattress and grinding his hips shamelessly against Julian’s. Then Julian delivered a sneaky pinch to a distracted Garak’s side and climbed atop him. It was hardly fair, but it was freeing, not to have to hide. He pinned Garak’s wrists against the bed and felt the warmth radiating from him; Garak let out a quiet, needy sound he’d never heard before. He gently pushed Garak’s robe open and kissed Garak’s collarbones. Julian traced the raised scales on his chest, taking in details he’d never noticed before. He felt as alive and electric as he had the first time he’d taken Garak to his bed, (or had it been the other way around?) and memories of their first few passionate encounters, combined with the heady excitement of their new reality, had Julian hard enough to cut glass. Eventually his wandering hand made it to Garak’s inner thighs, and his fingers brushed against the wet edge of Garak’s seam. “Can I?” Julian asked. He’d touched around the edges of Garak’s ajan before, but not like this. 

“Yes,” Garak whispered.

Julian gently pressed the tip of his finger into Garak's ajan; Garak threw his head back and moaned as he rolled his hips forward, taking Julian deeper inside him.

“Is that good?” Julian asked.

“Yes, it’s-” Garak muttered something in Kardasi that the translator didn't catch and buried his face in Julian's neck.

“Oh, it's that good, is it?” Julian smiled, a new and hungry expression on his face.

“Wait.”

“Okay.” Julian withdrew his fingers and pulled away from Garak. “Are you okay? Did I-”

“You really shouldn’t be so focused,” Garak muttered.

“I’m sorry?”

“I should be the one taking care of all your needs, Chu-lian, not the other way around.” Garak looked embarrassed, and his ridges were flushed a deep charcoal.

“I’m not sure I follow,” Julian said.

“Haven't you realized...” Garak trailed off as he remembered scenes from a few Terran erotica films he'd watched before he and Julian had gotten together. Perhaps this was another detail that had gotten lost in translation.

“Well, it's, it's-” it wasn't often that Garak was stammering and at a loss for words, so Julian waited patiently, taking his hand and brushing away Garak's long, thick hair from his eyes. “-it's just that, at least in Cardassian society, this-” Garak gestured to Julian, who was still draped over him, “-is considered an act of submission.” Garak watched as Julian's face cycled through a series of expressions from confusion to surprise to wonder and then finally, curiosity. 

“Really?” Julian asked, his hazel eyes shimmering brightly, mischievously. 

Garak nodded, and Julian began laughing. “I’d love to know what it is you find so humorous, Doctor.”

“Well, Garak, you are several times stronger than me, we established that long ago-“ Julian thought of the time Garak had fucked him over the edge of a chair and shattered the armrest and the legs in the process; he felt himself starting to flush, “-you're the former spy, and self-described interrogation expert-“

“It's an act of service, Chu'lian, it has nothing to do with strength. At least not the physical kind.” Garak said snappily, clearly ruffled or a bit uncomfortable. _Or both_, Julian thought. 

“An act of service,” Julian said breathlessly. 

“On Cardassia, yes. Think about it. Who ends up doing all the work? To labor on behalf of one's-”

“All the work?”

“Perhaps, not all the work, but you know how Cardassians feel about devotion to a worthy cause, and devotion to one’s enjoined is among the most important commitments in Cardassian-”

“Garak - I’m - okay, well, that much I understand! I am lucky enough to be the focus of your attentions!” Julian was still smiling and even worse, still giggling.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Garak asked.

“Because! This is thrilling!” Garak responded to that with a small clicking sound that signified disapproval, but he didn’t push Julian away. “An act of service, you say?”

“You heard me the first time.”

“Then allow me to serve you,” Julian whispered. He kissed one of Garak’s temples, then the other, and then settled in, content to run his fingers over Garak’s neck and facial ridges.

“Yes,” Garak whispered.

Julian pulled away to make eye contact. “Yes?” he asked.

“Yes,” Garak repeated, only slightly louder. He guided Julian’s hand back between his legs.

“Oh,” Julian said softly as he felt the copious amounts of moisture leaking down Garak's thighs and onto his fingers. Garak was soft inside, and so very warm. “You feel wonderful,” Julian said, spreading his fingers open and rubbing in a slow back and forth motion, the way Garak had shown him.

“Would you like to fuck me?” Garak asked in a voice that felt distinctly like a command.

“Y-yes,” Julian stammered.

“How lovely for us to want the same thing at the same time.”

“Can we do this if you haven’t...”

“If I haven't everted? There's no shame in just saying it, dear,” Garak said calmly. “Oh, there are many things we can do like this.” He looked so confident, so in control, as he was splayed out beneath Julian. “Go on,” he said, taking Julian’s cock in hand and pressing the head of it against his entrance.

Julian exhaled; he couldn’t remember a time he’d ever been so nervous in bed. He balanced over Garak and slid the tip of his cock slowly into his ajan. “Oh my god,” he said as he was enveloped in Garak’s warmth. It was like nothing he’d ever felt; there was a texture surrounding him that seemed to have a grip to it. As he tried to push forward, Garak moaned, and he felt a rippling motion wash over what little of him was inside. “Garak, you have to-“ Julian braced himself and bit his lip, “-you’re not going to be able to do that if you want me to last, oh, god.” 

Garak let out a self-satisfied chuckle. “Is that so, Doctor? One would think you would at least be aware of certain facets of Cardassian anatomy by now.”

“Of course I was aware of it, I have touched you here.”

“Ah, but not aware enough to have the self-control necessary to fully appreciate it.” Garak’s voice was calm, completely unruffled.

Julian tried to push in a bit further, but the sensations were too overwhelming. He felt his arms start to tremble. “You’re so - fuck - I’m not sure I’m going to fit.” He laughed nervously.

“Oh, you are definitely not going to fit all of that inside me at the moment,” Garak smiled and ran his cool, smooth fingers over the length of Julian that wasn’t inside him. 

“Am I hurting you?” Julian stilled and his facial expression instantly shifted into concern. 

“No, no,” Garak said, “just tread lightly.” He shifted underneath Julian, and the doctor felt that same maddening rippling motion gripping his cock on all sides. 

“Dammit, Elim.” Julian pressed his face into Garak’s neck, and he could feel the doctor’s eyelashes fluttering against his neck ridges. 

“Is something the matter?” 

“I’m not going to last if you keep on, if you keep on like that.” Several drops of Julian’s sweat fell onto Garak’s face.

“If I keep doing what, my dear?” Garak flexed the muscles in question and watched as Julian’s arms went from trembling to full-on shaking. “This is a perfectly normal reaction to this sort of penetrative intercourse.”

“How romantic.” Julian closed his eyes and began moving again. His hips were unsteady, his movements cautious; he felt like he was reliving his very first time all over again. Garak reached up and gently scratched Julian’s back, sending shivers up and down the doctor’s spine.

“Tell me, Doctor, how does it feel to be of service?” Garak asked in a low and serious voice while he clenched down around Julian's cock, setting loose the same rippling motion that had been driving Julian mad since they started. It was too much for the good Doctor to handle, and Garak smirked when he felt him start to fall apart.

Julian cried out and collapsed onto Garak’s chest, hips jerking seemingly of their own accord; he came so hard his ears began ringing and the room seemed to tilt on its axis. “Oh my god,” he muttered against Garak’s neck once he was finally able to speak. “Elim, Elim,” he repeated over and over as he stroked Garak’s face and shoulders.

“Do you mind if I finish?” Garak sounded bored out of his mind, which awakened Julian's competitive streak. He was not about to let their first time _like this,_ end up... like this.

Julian raised his head and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Oh, I’m happy to help you with that,” he said, wiggling his hips.

This was not going the way Garak anticipated; Julian had a maddening, radiant grin on his face and looked as though he was feeling a bit more confident. “I thought you had long since completed, my dear,” Garak said, trying to snipe but well aware that Julian hadn’t softened and was still inside him. 

“I am enhanced,” Julian said before landing a sloppy peck on the end of Garak’s nose, “in far more ways than one.”

“You seem so certain your enhancements are up to the challenge of Cardassian anatomy,” Garak said nonchalantly.

“That’s because I believe they are.” Garak huffed in response, but couldn’t stop the rush of slick that left him. “That's what I thought.” Julian tapped the inside of his thigh, and Garak slowly spread his legs wider to help relieve the pressure building up inside him. “Come on out,” Julian whispered into his ear. He rubbed the top of Garak's slit with two fingers. Julian had coaxed him into everting before, but never like this; the vulnerability of it all threatened to overwhelm Garak and he took a deep breath through his nose, then exhaled and allowed himself to evert, pushing past Julian’s cock wedged into him, and into Julian’s waiting hand.

“Very good,” Julian said, stroking his thumb down Garak's length; the tailor was embarrassed by the full body shudder he couldn’t suppress. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Is this-” Julian was interrupted by Garak grabbing a hold of his hips and pulling him closer.

“Oh yes, it is, _quite_, if you must know.” Garak's voice sounded ever-so-slightly strained.

Julian continued pushing in until he finally bottomed out. “You feel so damn good.” He started moving, slowly but steadily, and kissed Garak deeply, passionately. After his first embarrassing try, he was now able to better appreciate the overall experience, and it seemed Garak was as well. The Cardassian was holding him close, and had hooked his ankles around Julian’s back. Julian recognized the quiet sounds and clicks of pleasure. It didn’t take long before Garak was shaking and breathing shallowly; the long, slick length of him was rubbing against Julian’s belly with every motion. “Tell me, Elim, do I please you?” Julian asked, his warm hand stroking Garak's face as he thrust gently into him.

“You please me so.” He ran his fingers under Julian’s eye, where a ridge would be if he were Cardassian. “My well-spring, my basking rock, my Chu’lian,” he said, his voice nearly breaking over the words, “you serve so honorably.”

Julian didn’t stop the movement his hips and the outline of a smile crept onto his face. It quickly became a smirk, and Garak got the distinct feeling he was about to regret what he’d just said. “Is that your way of saying I know how to fuck?” he asked.

Garak was taken aback, and for the first time since he’d known Julian, he was truly speechless. He nearly choked before being able to get out a few words. “Is - my-”

“Go on, admit it, you’ve been completely mesmerized by my prowess,” Julian said confidently. He winked at Garak, which was bad enough, but he then had the absolute gall to click his tongue behind his teeth.

“Your prowess? Coming from the man who couldn’t last past the first few centimeters just a few moments ago? Ridiculous.” Garak’s ridges were turning to charcoal, and his chufa was the brightest shade of blue Julian had ever seen. It seemed like he might actually be mad. Good, Julian thought.

“Yet here you are, panting like you’ve been in the sauna all day.”

“Chu’lian Bas’hir, you are the most-“ Julian picked up his speed and a startled Garak began clicking out a stream of sounds in Kardasi. Julian caught one or two curses in between the translated ‘arrogant,’ ‘insolent,’ and ‘youthful, disrespectful fool.’

Julian got right in his face. “I’m surprised you can even find the ability to raise your voice like that when you’re being stuffed full by a true Terran [hu’verxt,] the first of his kind,” he said loudly. Julian then fucked into Garak hard enough that his bollocks slapped up against the lips of his ajan.

“Chu’lian,” Garak gasped.

Julian lowered his voice. “It seems this is a battle, two can win?” Garak had never heard that Cardassian idiom (often used as a pickup line) come out of Julian’s mouth. Finally, he understood; Julian was fucking him deep and good, while managing to argue with him as well as any Cardassian. Garak felt two unexpected emotions: surprise, and a spike of arousal so strong, he had to close his eyes and recall a few to stop himself from coming right then and there.

“Hardly, Doctor! You are a vulgar-mouthed man-“ Garak sneered and turned his head away from Julian, “-with a libido the size of an overgrown colony of Edosian orchids. I'm not sure why I even let you inside the sacred temple of my body.”

“You let me fuck you,” Julian thrusted sharply up into him, “because I'm good at it, and because it feels good.”

“You speak of your own skills as though you have mastery over them.”

“I’m a fast learner.”

“You’ve also proven yourself to be a fast finisher. If only your stamina matched your arrogance.”

Julian bit down on the ridge at the base of Garak’s jaw at the same time he wrapped his fist around Garak’s length, and that was all it took to push him over the edge; Garak cried out and clawed Julian’s back as he came, squirting up between them, into Julian’s face, over Julian’s fingers, and of course, all over the bed. Julian grinned broadly as he watched Garak fall apart; he slowly removed his hand once Garak’s ‘fountain’ stopped overflowing. He was still hard inside Garak, and moved carefully to avoid overstimulating him.

“How are you doing?” Julian anchored himself on his elbows and leaned in for a sloppy kiss before allowing Garak to answer.

“Doctor Bashir-” Garak muttered against Julian's lips. 

Julian pinched Garak’s thigh. “Not in bed.”

“Julian - Chu’lian - I am an old man.”

“Stop that.”

“It’s the truth. I have seen and experienced much in my life, and when it comes to your most recent performance, I am deeply offended.”

Julian yanked his head up and looked at Garak with shock. “Offended?”

“Yes, it is as though you have stabbed me in the back.”

Julian’s face fell. “Oh, god, Garak - I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He started to pull out, but Garak held him in place.

“And now it seems your vocabulary fails you. I said I was offended, not wounded. I am advancing in years, and I must say, the way you - how would you put it - _fucked_ me just now leads me to believe you might not want me to stick around too much longer.”

Julian pursed his lips together in a feeble attempt to suppress his amusement.

“I’ve gone completely soft in my old age. This was all a honey pot setup for you to murder me in the comfort of my own bed, then take over my booming tailoring business,” Garak continued, nipping at Julian’s collarbones. “Next you’ll tell me you’ve been training for this moment for years.”

A defeated Julian finally let out a roaring laugh, and collapsed onto Garak’s chest. “You absolute bastard,” he said, scooting his hips forward.

“Fine, fine, fine,” Garak sighed and grabbed Julian’s arse, taking him in deeper. “I suppose if you want to kill me, this is quite a lovely way to go. Carry on.”

“I’m afraid,” Julian kissed the ridge above Garak’s left eye, “you’re going to live a very long life.” He began working up the speed of his hips again. “And you’re going to be annoyed by me until the very last day of it.”

Garak’s eyes took on a bit of a glassy sheen not unlike the bal’kara’a, and he muttered something that sounded a lot like "water" in Kardasi before pulling Julian down into a surprisingly tender kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me your garashir prompts anytime!!! I'm on twitter & Tumblr as @ orchidtreks

**Author's Note:**

> Just need to say that I'm fucking obsessed with the idea of all the different fabrics and their significance both in Cardassian culture and in the entire Federation / galaxy in general. GOD I LOVE WORLD BUILDING


End file.
